New World Order
by The Wobbly Guy
Summary: *REWORKED* On a desolate world in the Periphery, long-hidden secrets and power beyond imagination are sought. And the universe will be changed forever... The final version, edited with dates and corrected battle reports!
1. Prologue & Lostech Grail

_Prologue_

After the Fed Com civil war, there were many ex-Davion and ex-Steiner soldiers who left their respective armies for one reason or another. Many could not abide following the orders of superiors who had fought on the 'other side' during the war. Some were disillusioned by the vicious fighting and atrocities committed on both sides. Yet others left because they were tired of constant war and sought easy duty.

This led to a huge increase in the number of mercenaries seeking employment on Outreach and Galatea. Due to the Star League's recent détente with the Clans after the Great Refusal, there were not many opportunities for a mercenary to gain employment. The skirmishes on the Jade Falcon/Lyran Commonwealth border were decidedly low key as both militaries tried to rebuild their forces.

Even the Chaos March had calmed down following the end of the civil war. Most of the worlds had already been claimed by either the resurgent Capellan Confederation, the Federated Suns, or the Word of Blake.   
This led to the two mercenary strongholds of Outreach and Galatea to becoming crowded with whole battalions of mercenaries who have nowhere to go.

It was on Outreach, in a rather insignificant bar, that our tale began…__

_Temptown, Harlech City,_

_Outreach, Chaos March,_

_02nd November, 3067___

"Hear me! Hear me!" A scruffy looking man with long blond hair shouted in the Drunken Shadows Bar, trying to get attention.

He yelled, "There's rumors of star league lostech in the deep periphery, far from the states and the blasted clans, on a world 60 light years from the Marian Hegemony!"

"And I have been there! I saw incredible stuff on that world! There was, like, mountains of tech you have never imagined, things of wonder even the clans may not have," the man blustered.

The bar patrons, who had been politely listening to the man, shook their heads and turned away to carry on their own activities. They had heard many stories of lostech, and this one was nothing new to them. Most of these tales and rumors were just that, red herrings which only the most desperate mercs would attempt to follow.

The man tried to get their attention again. "Hey, look! I can prove it! I did get there, and I did not leave without a souvenir. Take a look at this!" With that, he brought out a device shaped like a baton and waved it around like a band master.

The bar patrons were getting irritated at the man's antics, and many of them were in no mood to indulge obvious drunken maniacs in their fantasies. One thin man, dressed in a torn uniform of the FWLM, moved up to the man to punch him into unconsciousness. 

As he walked up, however, the man with the baton pointed it at the former Marik soldier, and shouted, "Hey! Someone has volunteered for a demonstration!" With that, he depressed a button on the baton.

The next thing the occupants of the bar knew, the Marik soldier was flat on his back, knocked out and smoke coming out of his clothes. There was not a single mark or wound on his body, however, on closer examination. All they could recall was a bright flash, a stream of blue energy streaking from the baton, and then the result. The effect was akin to a stun stick, but no stun stick ever works at ranged distances...

A compatriot of the downed man yelled, "You'll pay for this!" and charged at the scruffy man, only to be blasted into unconsciousness as well, before he had taken three steps from his seat.

Suddenly, the entire bar erupted into chaos, as the patrons finally realized the man could be speaking the truth. Everybody charged at the man, to try to get the baton. It would fetch a tidy price on the market.

Punches were thrown, blows were exchanged, as the bar occupants fought over the piece of "lostech". The blond man, who had the baton knocked out of his hands early on, slipped away from the throng of ex-soldiers fighting over the baton. Removing several data disks from his pocket, he proceeded to scatter them onto the floor. He took one last look at the ongoing brawl, grinned, and left the bar. He disappeared into the night, whistling. Mission accomplished.

Lieutenant Mitchell sighed, this was the umpteenth brawl in his sector, and he was tired of cleaning up after the mercenaries after their bar fight in the previous night. However, the "lightning gun" in the police's hands, as well as the various disks scattered on the floor collected by the police, gave him some hope that this case would be more interesting than the others.

The disks seemed to be spilled by the man who held the strange device. He was sure he did not have all the disks, however. There were too many people in the bar, and some of them left before his riot police arrived. It was entirely possible that some of the disks were picked up by those who left "early".

Fortunately for all involved, there were no fatal casualties, or there would have to be a murder investigation. Even the two mercs hit by the device were already up and talking about the events in the bar, none the worse for wear.

Mitchell had already sent the disks and the device to forensics for analysis, and initial findings were already very promising. From what one of the lab techs had gleaned from the device, it contained components and power sources never seen before in either the clans or the Inner Sphere. As the tech was a former Dragoon tech, he definitely knew what he was talking about, and Mitchell believed him.

As for the disks, all the techs could make out so far was that they contained encoded coordinates for a location in space, as well as requests for monetary compensation for the decoder to reveal the coordinates. The techs could not make out the coordinates, however, as it was encoded using a 1024-bit algorithm, which, the techs told him, was beyond even star-league era computers to decode. 

Obviously the disks were sales pitches to potential buyers, the highest bidder getting the decoder, and thus, the coordinates to a lostech cache. The "lightning gun" was also obviously hard evidence to convince the buyers of the authenticity of the information.

Mitchell, with the initial lab reports of the device, managed to convince his captain to organize a sweep of Temptown for the blond man who started the whole business. The device was sent to Dragoon scientists for further analysis, and a report sent to Dragoon High Command. New technology, unknown and undiscovered, was definitely a serious matter. 

The brawl in the bar was quickly pushed into the background, as the search for the mysterious man intensified. The mercs on the street managed to find out about the events in the bar, and some of the lab techs were a bit too loose-lipped and let slip the information about the coordinates. It was not long before everybody in Harlech was looking for the blond man in a bid to get to the lostech cache.

Some of them even had the disks, but they were useless without a decoder.

Transport company owner Forsen Mandela was one of these men. He had fallen on some hard times when his jumpships and dropships were "appropriated" during the civil war by the various factions. It had resulted in him owing the banks a great deal of money, and the Fed Com government was extremely tardy in reimbursing him for the use of his ships.

Jumpships were the lifeline of human civilization in the 31st century. Capable of traveling 30 light years in an instant, they allowed humanity to reach for the stars, instead of being trapped on their homeworld of earth. The ravages of the Succession Wars had drastically reduced the number of jumpships before an unspoken taboo against destroying anymore of their irreplaceable technology was formed. Some individuals, like Forsen were even able to amass large fleets for commerce, trading, and transport. Unfortunately, he had borrowed heavily from the banks to do so, and he regretted that decision ever since.

Forsen had been in the bar during the incident, and was one of those who had fought to get the device. He was punched out rather quickly, due to the physical difference between him, a man in his forties with a paunch, and the relatively fit mercs. He regained his senses rather quickly, and saw a data disk in front of him on waking. Without knowing what he was doing, he slipped two of them into his coveralls. Several other battered patrons also seemed to be doing the same thing.

He had dashed out of the bar on hearing sirens. A police interrogation was the last thing he needed. If the banks got just the slightest whiff of him getting into trouble with the police, he was sure they would have impounded his ships once and for all, no questions asked.

Forsen was more than a bit surprised, then, when he entered his hostel room after a fruitless afternoon spent on the street hunting for the blond man, he saw the very man sought by everybody on the planet sitting on the single shabby chair in the room, and pointing a slug pistol at him. He looked very tense, and seemed willing to pull the trigger.

"Hello, Mr. Mandela," the man spoke. "I think you must be very surprised to see me. My name is Landar. I am currently a bit upset at losing my disks in the brawl in the bar. I had meant to seek out bidders for the coordinates in the bar. The brawl was entirely unanticipated. Since I have lost all my disks that were meant for potential bidders, as well as the lostech device, I have been thinking of a way to recoup my losses. After much consideration, I have decided that you would be the best candidate for me to give the decoder to, provided you can meet my price."

Forsen wasn't the owner of a jumpship company for nothing. He had his own suspicions, and he wanted to be sure the man was on the level. He asked, "How do I know you are the man with the decoder? And how do you think I can help you? I am not exactly a rich man right now. Just look at this dive I'm staying in and you get the idea."

Landar countered, "But you still own a transport company, and think of the profits you can make if every out of work merc on the street decides to take a chance on your ships traveling to the world with the lostech cache. Well, provided you have the coordinates. As for the decoder, I assure you I have it with me. Good thing I left it back in my room before I went to the bar, or I would have ended up empty handed."

Forsen mulled over the man's words for a while, trying to spot the problems. He came up with several. "I have a few questions I want answered."

"Shoot."

"Why didn't you offer the coordinates to one of the Houses? They pay much better, and you could get a pretty good offer, even from the Liaos."

Landar snorted, "Once burned, twice shy. Next question."

"How did you get the "lightning gun"? I assume you were on the planet with the lostech. How did you get there, and why didn't anyone else know about it? The people who brought you off that rock must have some idea of what was in that place."

Landar did not answer immediately, and for a moment, Forsen was afraid he might have pushed too hard. But Landar did speak after a while. "Actually, I was a pirate with a band raiding the Rim Collection. After Able's Aces kicked Hopper Morrison's band into the dust, they started coming after the rest of the pirates in the area, which included yours truly. My band sought refuge on that rock for a few months."

He continued, after a short pause to gather his thoughts, "I came across the lostech devices when I was alone in my mech on a long patrol and left the cockpit for some fresh air. When I hit the ground, I stumbled on the remnants of what I believe to be a research station of some sort. There were plenty of stuff inside, but the place looked abandoned. I played around with some of the devices. Good thing I could read, cos there were instructions on some of the tables for using the gadgets, or else I could have killed myself playing with them. I grabbed a couple of the more interesting ones and made my way back to my mech and back to camp before anyone got suspicious. I also got enough from the station that it was not the only one in the area, or on the planet. I think it belonged to the Star League. But before I could investigate further, our leader got us off that planet to resume raiding."

"I got the coordinates for that world from the navigator, and ditched my mech on our next raid. I managed to make my way to Outreach, where I got a programmer to encrypt the coordinates and make copies of the disk. Don't worry, he is no longer a problem. I entered a bar to seek out potential buyers for my info, and you know what happened next."

"You said devices?" Forsen asked inquiringly.

Landar grinned slyly. "Hehe, you certainly are a sharp one. That's right, I said devices. The "lightning gun" may be interesting, but I have something else that will absolutely convince others of my claims. Take a look at this."

He took out from a pocket what seemed to be a round ball, and placed it on a nearby table for Forsen to inspect. It was round, with tiny prongs protruding from the surface. On picking it up, Forsen tried to look for any obvious switches, but failed to find any. He had absolutely no idea of what it was, or how it worked.

Smiling at Forsen's confusion, Landar smiled and proceeded to place the ball beside a soft drink can, holding his gun on Forsen the whole time. He touched the ball on certain points, then stepped away. Taking a laser pistol from his pocket and holding it on Forsen, he then tossed his slug pistol to Forsen, along with a silencer.

"Fit on the silencer, and shoot at the can. I trust you can hit the can at that distance? Don't try anything funny, remember I still have a weapon on you."

Forsen was a bit confused. What, shoot the can? Yes, he could do that, but why? Shrugging, he fitted the pistol with the silencer, took careful aim, and shot at the can.

There was a faint shimmer in the air, and suddenly the bullet was falling towards the ground about a foot from the can. Gasping, Forsen took aim and fired again, only to see the same result.

"What...what was that?"

"That, was what the notes at the research station called a defense shield. I know, it sounds like something out of a science-fiction holovid, but that is exactly what we have here. It works against energy weapons too. I dunno about mech class weapons though, but there may be larger versions on that world. Think about it, tech beyond what even the clans have!"

"Incredible, the houses will kill for this technology."

"That is why I won't give it to them. On the other hand, I do intend to make a tidy profit from my find, and this is one of the ways I could think off. I have another "lightning gun", which I will give you. You will contact the various mercs on planet and offer them a demonstration of the weapon. Then you will tell them you can offer them transport to the world with the lostech cache. Offer to transport them all, and if demand exceeds your capacity, rope in independent operators and other companies. However, I will have 15 percent of the total profit. You can raise your transport rates at your own discretion, but I will have that 15 percent, or else the deal is off. You will have the mercs pay up front, and once you have consolidated the money, you will come to me with my share, and I will give you the decoder in exchange. The mercs get to search for their precious lostech, you get your money, and I get to live out the rest of my days in relative wealth. Everybody ends up happy."

_Except for those mercs who find nothing. But then, who cares. As long as I can make my money, they can go to hell, Forsen thought._

Landar was saying, "I picked you because you are a smart businessman, and a relatively honest one. So, do we have a deal?"

Extending his hand towards Landar, Forsen smiled. "Yes, we do."

Frank Meronac stared at the tall man sitting in front of him. "Uh, so do I pass muster?" He asked nervously.

Captain Vansen sighed. "It's not that you aren't good enough. The recommendations you got from the OMTC rank mighty high on my list."

Vansen leaned forward and clasped his hands. "However, I have just enough mechs for my mechwarriors right now, so there's no way you are gonna take one of the spots in front of them."

Frank was disappointed, and he knew it was bad form to let it show on his face, but he couldn't help it.

The mercenary captain continued. "How about this then? I know you're a qualified doctor. As it happens, we're leaving Outreach soon for a trip to the Periphery. You must have heard the rumors."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "Rumors? At this point, I doubt they are rumors anymore. So let me fill in the rest. It's a long trip, it's going to be a bit dangerous, and you think you might need trained medical personnel to help. Since I'm here, you think I'm your best chance at some medical support."

"Right." Vansen smiled. "I'm even willing to promise you a berth for next mech assignment that appears. So how about it?"

Frank bit his lips. He was not exactly desperate, not with his present job at the Outreach University Hospital, but he really needed a battlefield assignment soon with a merc unit, because that was the fastest and surest way to fame and riches.

He needed those things in order to have any chance of gaining his fiancée's hand from her father. Fame, riches, and maybe a title. Only Gods knew how he was going to get them.

Not for the first time, Frank cursed the feudal system that had gripped the entire Inner Sphere for ages since humanity's foray out into the stars. He was loyal to the government, of course, but still…

Graduating from the NAIS at a young age of 22, he had been one of the brightest medical students and researchers to graduate from the NAIS. He had been assigned to a combat unit, the 2nd Davion Guards, as a battlefield surgeon upon graduation, despite his grades, due to the desperate need for doctors during the bloody Fed-Com civil war. During one particularly pitched battle on Sirdar, he had even been forced into a mech cockpit to serve as a decoy to distract enemy forces, solely based on his history of having piloted agromechs during his youth. The battered _Dart_ was shot out from under him, but he managed to survive that battle and the civil war with his mind, body and sanity relatively intact.

After the war, he severed his bond with the government, using the money earned from his five bloody years of service as reimbursement. Having had a taste of piloting a real battlemech, he was not exactly eager to have another shot, but circumstances had forced him into trying to become a real mechwarrior.

For years he had been good friends with Clarice Ferguson, the daughter of the Duke of Lackland, his homeworld. They had gone to school together since they were twelve, and they had been close ever since he had helped her fend off several bullies at school at the cost of being beaten up himself.

Frank, despite his poor background, was able to study at secondary level only because of a scholarship from Duke Ferguson. After college, they had gone to the NAIS together. He had blazed through the course and graduated two tears earlier, while she had been stuck at the NAIS as a researcher with Doctor Banzai during the entire war.

Frank had been more than grateful when he had realized the war was over, and he had hoped to take their relationship further, and she had been apparently willing to do the same. But then her father got in the way.

The Duke had high hopes for his bright daughter, had hoped that she would marry into a noble family, and enhance his bloodline. He had been shocked to find that a commoner of lowly background had won her heart, even if it was somebody who he had once regarded highly. In the end, he told Frank that he could take Clarice's hand in marriage only when he had achieved both fame and fortune, as well as a title. Well, after he had Frank held at gunpoint and dragged away on his face.

As being a soldier was absolutely the fastest way to attain glory in the Inner Sphere, Frank had tried to enlist in the AFFS, but the Duke had specifically warned him from taking such a route. Having no other choice, Frank was forced to go to Outreach, and learn basic battlemech skills, as well as look for a job which might offer some hope for future success.

Which brought him to this interview.

Frank supposed that this offer from Vansen was about as good as he could get. He finally nodded. "You got yourself a doctor."

A scruffy man in a brown jacket skulked furtively in an alley, looking out from his dark shaded spot into the street warily before walking out to cross the road. Almost immediately, a hand reached from around the corner to grab the back of his jacket. The man was spun around hard, and then thrown against the wall.

Major Ian Dorlacen smiled evilly as he grabbed the front of the fixer's shirt, holding up the smaller man against the wall. "Hi there, Gary. Nice of you to walk away after that little fracas last night. You did agree to tell me where the demo location was, didn't you? So why are you hiding now?"

The fixer trembled in Ian's grasp. "The other mercs want you out of the action. They paid me some money not to tell you the location. Unless you have a better offer for me… Like say… a hundred C-bills."

Ian pressed the man harder against the wall. "You trying to diss me? Okay, so I'll pay you that much. I want the meeting place for the demonstration, _now_!" He shouted the last words right into the fixer's ears, making the man flinch.

The fixer gulped. "Over at Joe's place. At five o'clock in the afternoon. Can you pay me now?"

Ian let down the man slowly. He dusted down the man's jacket collars gently. "Here's fifty C-bills," Ian took the sum of money from a pocket, "I won't pay you the rest yet. Look for me at seven in my apartment for the balance. And if you're lying again…" Ian allowed just the slightest hint of the grip of his laser pistol to peek out from under his own jacket.

"Uh, okay! No problem!" The fixer inched away along the wall, before breaking into a run away from the mercenary leader.

Ian watched the man run away. He had a appointment at the Stinging Duck, owned by Joe Piscol. Provided the fixer hadn't lie to him, that is.

His mercenary battalion was a moderately successful unit, but the recent dearth of contracts in the stabilizing Chaos March, due to the conclusion of the Fed Com Civil War and the Word of Blake's movements in the March, had forced him to look for other avenues to keep the money rolling in.

Ian figured he had enough money reserves to justify this trip to the Periphery. He had been intrigued as much as the next merc by the offer of possible technology beyond what even the clans had, and he wasn't going to let it go so easily.

And if the rumor turned out to be true, which the demonstration at the Duck should confirm, he might even let Kate Winslet on the secret.

For a price, of course. Nothing came free on Outreach.

_I had better check on my _Awesome_, since there's still some time to go before five._ Ian started to walk towards the repair bays.

He walked into the cavernous repair bay, and looked at the stupendous array of war machinery being worked on by his technicians. Of course, the centerpiece of his unit was the twelve battlemechs they had.

A battlemech was the epitome of armored warfare in the 31st century, a mobile walking fortress capable of destroying a city on its own. Standing about 10 meters tall, they were powered by fusion engines, and propelled by remarkable muscle like myomer strands, which react to electrical impulses much like real human muscle. Protected by advanced armor composites, they were virtually impervious to anything save another mech, or a well armed combat tank.

Their weaponry could consist of lasers, particle cannons, autocannons, or missiles both short and long ranged. Ian was more than a bit envious of the new technology being debuted on the market, things like quick firing rotary autocannons, medium ranged missiles, advanced streak launchers, heavy gauss rifles, and even the new targeting computer developed by the Federated Suns. He simply didn't have the funds to purchase these cutting edge weapons.

Needless to say, mechs were the kings of the battlefield, and a staple of human warfare ever since their appearance several  centuries ago. To many people, they were also the symbol of everything that was wrong with humanity.

Ian did not care about these. He was a mercenary, and his only thoughts were of getting enough money to ensure a comfortable retirement fund, as well as ensuring that his troopers stayed alive.

Which was also why he decided that a trip to the Periphery in search of hidden treasure might actually be worth something.

After a week, Forsen Mandela was a happy man. There was so much demand for places on the transports to the cache world, dubbed Einstein after the famous scientist, that he could raise the rates by 20 percent with no decrease in the demand. He was even forced to contract with other jumpship owners to accommodate everyone. Even mercs on Galatea had caught wind of the news and arranged for jumpships of their own. Of course, since only Forsen had the coordinates, or soon would anyway, he will have a cut of their earnings. 

The recent poor hiring market also was an important factor in the decision of many mercs to take the risk of traveling far from the Inner Sphere in search of lost riches. Forsen had arranged for help from the Dragoons to keep the various intelligence agencies of the houses from interfering, in exchange for a detailed report on any findings on Einstein, as well as transporting a small contingent of Dragoons for free.

The result was over 8 regiments of mercenaries with their mechs, fighters, tanks, and assorted units on 10 jumpships traveling to the deep periphery in search of, as one merc put it, the "Holy Grail".

Landar had proved true to his word, giving Forsen the decoder disk. Of course, Forsen pointed out that he could have been given the wrong coordinates and the wrong decoder disk. With this, Landar insisted that his information was accurate and since he lost all of his coordinate disks in the bar, he had no choice but to give accurate information.

With Forsen still in doubt, he finally agreed to have 70 percent of his share placed in a bank in Harlech, which would only be released to him upon Forsen's return to Outreach, and a successful find of lostech. The contract was verigraphed and each man kept a copy of the contract. A verigraph was a DNA activated document which could not be forged, which made Forsen feel a lot more secure.

The man known to Forsen and to much of the merc community as Landar waited patiently at his table. Dressed immaculately in a stylish suit, with his long hair tied back in a ponytail, he was completely unrecognizable from the scruffy, unkempt pirate he had portrayed in Temptown. Of course, disguise was only one of his many unique talents. Persuasion was another, as well as an ability to move in the open without anyone noticing him.

He smiled as he saw a tall, dark skinned man come up to his table.

"How was your mission? It must have been difficult to sneak into their archive center, much less edit their data without leaving any evidence." Landar took a sip from his double latte coffee.

His friend pulled up a chair to sit down. "Surprisingly, for all of the Jade Falcon Watch's vaunted vigilance, I was able to get the data into their systems with considerable ease. They should be getting the timed message in a few days. At least a Galaxy will be heading for the Periphery in a short while, I imagine." A waiter walked up, and his friend placed an order for an iced cappuccino. 

"They will swallow the bait?" Landar asked.

His friend smiled. "They will. Who could resist the temptation of new technology, especially if it could give you an advantage over your rivals? The Falcons, hidebound as they are, are one of the strongest clans, and the nearest clan to the "cache" world. They will be there, and they, along with the mercenaries, will learn the true threat from beyond the stars."

Landar scoffed. "Don't be so melodramatic. I only hope that not too many lives will be lost. They will need all of their strength for the storm to come. I wish we could have done this sooner. We have hidden for far too long."

"We had no choice. The situation was not conducive in the past. Only now, with relative peace settling over the entire Inner Sphere and the clans are we able to implement our plan. I have a question for you, though. Were we right in not bringing in the former Wolverines?"

Landar sighed, taking another sip of his coffee. "We could not bring in the Wolverines. The mere news of them will probably result in the clans going on another crusade to wipe them out, which is the last thing we need with the enemy so near at hand. They will be informed, however, but in due time."

His friend nodded his head. "There's one more thing. It seems that one clansman had actually managed to find out about the cache world, all on his own, _without_ our interference."

Landar leaned back in his seat. "Interesting. Who is he?"

"A Goliath Scorpion, but originally from the Nova Cats. He has very strong potential, old friend. I suspect that 3 centuries of enforced breeding for clairvoyance is finally manifesting itself for the Nova Cats." His friend shook his head in regret. "Pity that it is so limited by conditions…"

Landar smiled. "Do not be too sure. Things might change. In any case, this new clansman might have an important role to play. And don't forget that as we manipulate events, all of creation plays its own game as well. Coincidence that he found it at the same time as we maneuver events to point humanity to that world? I don't think so."

His friend shrugged his broad shoulders. "Well, I guess that is all we can do for the moment. How about a quick match in the mech simulators?"


	2. Blood Vision

_Jumpship _Sevoto_,_

_Nadir Jump Point, System GY-7152-TOF_

_Deep Periphery_

_26th February 3068_

On the bridge of the _Sevoto, Forsen Mandela rubbed his hands together nervously. It had taken the fleet of jumpships almost four months, even with the use of recharging stations, to traverse the more than 500 light years into the depths of the periphery. Their destination was now only one jump and ten minutes away, and it seemed to him that the tension throughout the entire fleet increased as they neared their destination._

There had been many fights among the lostech seekers throughout the journey, caused by mercenaries trying to find some release from the stress of being cooped up on the ships for the entire journey. Even the crewmen of the transport fleet were not immune to the tension. He had to assign extra duties to his crew to get their minds off the journey.

He had been extremely leery of travelling to uninhabited star systems, as any malfunction in the jumpship system could prove fatal. But because their destination was about 60 light years from the nearest inhabited system, he had no choice but to recharge at least once at a uninhabited system. They had been lucky, however, in that there had not been any problems with the jumpships during their journey.

Forsen's mind wandered to his last conversation with Landar, when he asked him how his pirate band had managed to find a habitable world so far away from the nearest populated planet. In a cubic space of 60 light years, there must had been at least 50 star systems. Finding one which contained a planet suitable for human beings would have been quite difficult. Landar had claimed it was only blind luck that they found a world to serve as a hideout. Forsen had accepted his explanation at face value. Thinking back to that conversation with Landar, he began to have doubts about the answer. There was something wrong about the man, but back then he was too interested about his profits to think about anything else.

It was too late to have any more doubts, all he could do was press forward and hope Landar had not lied to him. He shuddered to think of what the mercenaries on board could do to him should the information prove to be false. With luck, he would die quickly.

Doctor and Mechwarrior reserve Frank Meronac had just finished patching up a mercenary injured in the latest fracas on board the Overlord class dropship. He had long advocated tougher stances on discipline to cut down on fights which were depleting the medical stores unnecessarily quickly.

As a rookie mechwarrior and the only doctor on board, Frank had been assigned as a doctor on the trip to deal with the increasing numbers of mercs injured one way or another in fights on the ship. Despite his heavy workload, he had managed to keep up with his training in the simulators.

The Raiders had been out of work since he had signed on, and though their financial situation was not dire, no one was doing any hiring recently. The stability of the Star League, along with the quiet clan front, was definitely a big factor causing the recent peace. This was bad news for mercs, however, as they needed conflicts for them to earn money. Garrison contracts were far and few, and all of them had already been offered to the larger and more reputable mercenary groups. Like many other down and out mercs, Captain Vansen had finally decided to go on the journey to the Deep Periphery, on the grounds that there was unlikely to be any legitimate work anytime soon, and he would rather be looking for lostech and strike it rich than rot on Outreach waiting for a contract.

A chime sounded out. "Jump in ten minutes. All hands to their stations." A female voice droned out, informing crew members of their current status.

"Thanks very much. The arm feels much better," remarked the merc he had just patched up, Kily Gonzalez. "Well, its almost time to jump. Next stop, lostech paradise! Hey, don't be so glum, maybe you will find more supplies on planet."

Frank looked dubious. "I find that hard to believe. I still think this is a wild goose chase."

"You saw the 'lightning gun' demonstration. What else could it be?"

"It could have come from anywhere, maybe even the NAIS. All this may be a ploy by the houses to..."

Kily threw up his hands. "To what? Get rid of a bunch of stupid mercs like us? Come on, don't tell me you are one of those conspiracy nuts seeing plots in every nook and cranny. Anyway, I am heading to my bunk for some sleep. Its pretty tiring, tussling with those damned Wolf Dragoons. That Deserk is really a piece of work."

"Huh. You should have known better than to pick on their officer, even if she is a real looker. Her troops seem very protective. And Deserk was probably holding back. He was a former Nova Cat, and from what I have heard about the clans, they are all good at hand to hand combat. You were lucky he only dislocated your shoulder. He could have broken your entire arm."

Kily rolled his eyes at Frank's advice. "Yeah, yeah. Gotta run. See you in a few hours!" Kily yelled as he sped away from the sickbay, propelling himself through the corridor at breakneck speed using the handholds on the sides, despite his sore shoulder.

_One of these days he is going to get himself killed. I should talk to Deserk again, convince him to go even easier on Kily the next time._ A chime was sounded, "Five minutes to jump."

_I'll do it after the jump. There should be more than enough time to talk some sense into the two of them during the trip in-system. _

Finding a seat in the sickbay, he sat down, strapped himself in and waited for the jump, preparing himself mentally for the gut-wrenching effects of a jump.

There was a final chime, then there was a sudden sensation of drowning in a kaleidoscope of colors. It lasted for about two seconds, and he was jerked back to reality just as suddenly.

Frank got up quickly upon hearing the all clear and gathered the drugs used to treat Transit Disorientation Syndrome, or TDS for short. There were quite a number of people who would be feeling very sick from the after effects of the jump, and as a doctor, his job was to make them as comfortable as possible. He would be quite busy over the next few hours.

"Status report!" Forsen bellowed to his bridge crew.

"All systems functional!"

"No bogeys detected. Coast is clear at the jump point."

"All jumpship captains have reported in, no problems on their side."

"Six planets detected, asteroid field present. The target planet seems capable of supporting life."

With that piece of information, Forsen released the breath he had been holding throughout the reports. _Well, it seems the information may be real, after all. Why else would we be sent to a habitable world?_

Turning to his bridge crew, he gave them further orders.

"Prepare to detach all dropships in an hour. I will be going with them on the _Nile. Captain Rice, you have command of the __Sevoto. Stick to the plan we've worked out. We'll head in-system, get navigational data and send it to you as soon as possible. Get ready to jump into a pirate point in-system once you get the data. Keep an eye out on our friends, will you?"_

"Roger, boss," answered Captain Helene Rice to her employer, as he left the bridge. She gave the orders to unfurl the jump sails for recharging.

To an external observer looking at the fleet of dropships speeding towards their destination, they looked like a mass of eggs hurtling through space. The numerous weapon pods and nacelles on the surface of the "eggs" will quickly drive any thoughts of food from the mind of the observer, however. It was clear what these ships were designed for only one purpose, and that deadly purpose is war.

Frank Meronac trudged back to the sickbay, exhausted after seeing to the needs of those afflicted with TDS. The heavy 1.5 G the ship was pulling did not help matters any. His arms and legs felt and weighed like lead. It was one of those times when he wished for microgravity. At least things did not feel so bloody heavy.

Too much of gravity at times, and not enough at others. Back when they were drifting in space recharging their sails, time on the gravdecks was something to look forward to.

Frank could not understand why they needed to accelerate at such speeds. After all, it wasn't as if the planet was going anywhere. So why the need to pour on the coals?

Frank shook his head. He wasn't paid to think about such matters. Better to leave it for the higher ups. It's their problem, after all.

He also had a very bad feeling about it all, and he simply could not shake off the sensation that there was something very wrong. And he was beginning to regret going out so far from the Inner Sphere. After all, the Periphery was a place of mystery, pirates, and hidden dangers best left untouched.

He shook his head to clear it of his extraneous thoughts. _Well, get back to work_, he told himself.

On another part of the ship, former Nova Cat and present Wolf Dragoon mechwarrior Deserk tried to lull himself to sleep for the third time since waking. It was not just the heavy acceleration that was hindering his efforts. Before he gained consciousness he vaguely remembered a terrible dream, of blood, fire and steel.

Although he was now a Wolf Dragoon, sworn to the Dragoon way since his capture on Luthien more than ten years ago, he still held on to his former clan's belief's that dreams and vision are signs and keys to the future. He had even participated in several parapsychology experiments organized by the University of Outreach to gauge the accuracy of Nova Cat soothsaying and prophecies, in light of several reports from the Star League of Nova Cat visions which have proven true over time, namely the destruction of the Smoke Jaguars and the Black Dragon assault on Clan Ghost Bear.

Amazingly, or maybe not so amazingly to Deserk, he scored highly on clairvoyance and some other tests. More incredibly, his scores had seemed to improve with time. While he and a few other former Nova Cats scored quite well on the tests, the researchers were unwilling to reveal their findings to the public, refused to believe in the power of the spirit and abandoned the experiment in the end.

To Deserk, it did not matter that the scientists did not believe in visions. _Their loss. Logic can only bring so much into one's life, he had told his lancemates. He also begun to pay more attention to his own visions and dreams, knowing that they point the way to his future._

The dream he just had seemed important. He knew the only way to tell for sure was to sink back into the abyss of sleep, so that the dream will come to him again. But try as he might, he simply could not get back to sleep.

_Maybe a vision rite will help. But there is no other Nova Cat  on board to serve as a guide. Stravag! Just my luck that when something really important comes up, I could not remember it. Ah, I might as well check up on my mech. And look for another opportunity to humiliate Kily. Getting his goat is so easy. With that, Deserk left his bunk, and headed for the mech bays._

To Forsen, the reports he was getting from the ship sensors were getting more and more encouraging by the minute. Their destination was about the size of Terra, and its orbit was in the zone for the existence of life as dictated by the system's K class star. Interestingly, tensions among the mercenaries have also largely subsided. The heavier than normal G forces the dropships were pulling was probably one reason, and the fact that they would be on solid ground soon was another.

_Another four days. Another four days to waiting treasures and fortune beyond belief._

Thanks to the ship sensors, the mercenaries getting ready for the largest treasure hunt in recent history had an abundance of information about the world they are able to set foot on.

Einstein consisted of 60 percent water and 40 percent land surface. The land was divided into 4 major continents. Much of the land surface consisted of plains and forests, with relatively few land elevations. One interesting feature was the complete absence of deserts. The entire world seemed to be a paradise, and some mercs even expressed thoughts, half joking, half serious, of settling down on this garden paradise.

Using neutrino detectors equipped on the ship to track down the residue neutrino signatures of fusion reactors, used to supply Star League bases with power, the fleet had managed to track at least 60 possible sites scattered throughout the entire world. Each group of mercenaries had already picked out their own site on a prospecting map provided by Forsen Mandela. While many mercs were unhappy at their search sites, everybody agreed that this arrangement would be best for avoiding violence. The presence of the Wolf Dragoons would also serve as a warning against possible foul play by any of the parties involved.

Deserk, one of the Dragoons assigned as an observer once they hit the surface, got more and more agitated as they approached the planet, in stark contrast to the mood of the rest of the crew. The dreams, no, nightmares he had been having recently were becoming clearer as they neared Einstein. The last one he had the night before was particularly vivid, such that he could remember the entire scene accurately now.

He remembered seeing a massive shape rise up from an ocean, and disgorging a horde of strange machines from its belly. He saw the machines attack a group of omnimechs painted with bright green falcon crests. The mechs fought bravely, taking down wave after wave of their enemies, but eventually succumbed to sheer numbers, as they died in a storm of missiles and particle beams. Even ejected pilots were mercilessly executed by the strange machines, their red blood flung across the land on which they fought.

He followed the strange machines as they continued their rampage across the land, overwhelming group after group of soldiers as they tried to resist the advance. Suddenly his view was shifted, and then watching from space, he saw the entire planetary surface engulfed in flames, and then the entire planet blew itself apart.

He had woken up at that moment, the sight of the destruction of an entire world too much even for a genetically bred-for-war soldier. He spent long hours pondering over the dream, trying to understand the players involved. The omnimechs were clearly Jade Falcon mechs, and the world was probably the one they were about to land on. It could only mean that the Falcons were due to arrive on the world at some point in the future. He did not know what to make of the strange machines, though, and resolved to look for clues on Einstein.

Since he had the vivid nightmare, he had only confided in his superior, Captain Jadine Sheik, and Frank Meronac. He had his own reservations about telling the two, but he figured it was worth getting it off his chest, if only to talk about it.

Although Captain Sheik did not dismiss his dream out of hand, she also stated that she needed more proof before she was willing to warn the mercenaries. Deserk understood. Heck, he would have been extremely doubtful himself if it was somebody else who came up with such a story.

Surprisingly, Frank was a bit more understanding, and even managed to come up with several highly implausible, as well as some entirely believable scenarios for the nightmare, which to Deserk was quite surprising, considering his medical and scientific training. But due to the events at hand, as well as the lack of proof, they could not take any action and could only resolve to keep their eyes and ears open on Einstein.

Forsen Mandela, after collecting enough navigational information about the system, sent the data to his jumpships just before entering the planetary atmosphere. The jumpships would jump to a pirate point in the system nearer to the planet in case he needed a quick getaway. He was nothing if not a cautious man.

Aboard the _Fortress_ class dropship _Battle's Bane_, Major Ian Calderon was holding a status review for his troops near the feet of his _Awesome_ _9Q_.

"As you all know, we're landing soon on Einstein. Because we're basically on our own for the sector we've chosen, I want everybody to be on alert. We have no idea what's waiting for us down there. Some of you might laugh at the thought of the local animals posing any threat to us, but trust me, I've seen things that can tear even mechs apart, and they might even be present down there, so watch out."

"I don't want any trouble, so we'll establish a defensive perimeter with the mechs first, while the rest of the unit sets up camp. We should be set to go in the next morning. Captain Sachin will be in charge of the camp, while I'll be out with the mechs. The recon lance will be sweeping the area to look for any possible hostiles."

Ian looked around his crew. "Any questions?" Although he had the utmost trust in the abilities of his men, he still felt it necessary at times to let his men express their doubts and opinions. And sometimes, they had useful ideas which he had not thought of, and more than once listening to them had paid off.

There were some murmuring amongst his men, but nobody raised any objections.

"Okay, that's settled then. Everybody report to your company commanders for your exact tasks. Dismissed!"

Ian could not help but feel as though a storm was coming. He shuddered once, feeling the chill in the mech bay of the dropship.

Captain Helene Rice had just finished furling the jump sails of the _Sevoto when the information for the pirate point jump came in from the __Nile. Passing the data to the other jumpships of Forsen's transport company, but not to the independent operators, she begun to prepare the ship for jump._

A siren suddenly sounded, just as they were beginning their last systems check.

"Captain, we have a fleet jumping in-system just off our position. ID-ing them right now... Holy shit! There's two _Aegis_ cruisers in that bunch! They don't seem too friendly and are heading our way!" Her XO yelled.

Helene thought furiously. Two _Aegis_ class cruisers. If they are hostile, which they probably are, the odds could not be any worse if they had thrown a _Texas_ battleship at the completely defenseless Inner Sphere fleet. Their only chance now was to jump immediately to the pirate point, the coordinates of which were already loaded, which should throw off the attackers should they wish to pursue.

"All hands prepare for immediate jump. Get the other ships to do the same. Bill, check the allegiance of the enemy fleet. Communications, open a channel to the lead cruiser. I will try to buy us some time."

"Captain, they have the Jade Falcon insignia on their ships. How the hell did the Falcons get here?"

"Captain! The lead ship is not responding to our hail!"

"Detecting energy spikes from the warships! They're getting ready to fire!" The crew was beginning to panic.

_This cannot be happening... We have to jump ASAP. It's our only chance, Helene thought as the Falcon warships bore down on them._


	3. The Falcon Swoops

_Warship _Blue Aerie_,_

_Nadir Jump Point, Einstein,_

_Deep Periphery,_

_2nd March 3068_

The crew of the Inner Sphere jumpships had made a mistake about the warship class of the new arrivals. The two Jade Falcon Warships were actually the _Black Lion Class battlecruisers __Blue Aerie and __White Aerie. An understandable mistake, considering that the identification programs of the jumpships were already 5 centuries old and plagued with countless system failures over their lifespan._

The demise of the Inner Sphere's warships to the ravages of the Succession Wars had caused the warship identification programs to be relegated to the status of a non-essential system. Even with the resurgence of technology and resumed production of warships in the Inner Sphere, many vessels had yet to overhaul their ship identification systems.

To the commander of the _Blue Aerie, Star Commodore Valten Folkner, however, such an error by the ship crew would have seen the poor offender brought to the Star Commodore for a neural whip lashing. An extremely efficient and talented officer, even by Jade Falcon standards, he had progressed to the command of a warship after rising through the aerospace ranks._

Thin, frail-looking, and possessed of large eyes and an out-of proportion head like all clan aerospace pilots, he nevertheless had a surprising body strength that had even won him a stalemate with an Elemental in a Circle of Equals during a memorable contest.

He had a reputation among the crew for being ill-tempered, and quick with punishments for the slightest infringement. The crew made sure that they perform to his exacting standards, especially when he was angry.

Right now, Star Commodore Valten Folkner was very angry.

"These filthy freebirths cannot be here! This is an outrage! Helmsman, bring us closer to those jumpships! I want a firing solution as soon as possible on the jumpships with furled sails. They cannot be allowed to escape this system! Disable them or destroy them!" He roared at his bridge crew.

"Star Commodore, we are receiving a transmission from one of the jumpships. They claim to be peaceful Inner Sphere merchants and request to speak with you." The communications officer reported.

Valten snorted, "Do they take me for a fool? I know they are trying to get more time for their jump. An admirable effort, but one wasted on me. Ignore the hail, and tear them apart like the stravag dogs they are!"

Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth of Rho Galaxy was much calmer than her irate colleague. "Any sign of hostile enemies?" she asked the tech manning the holotank.

"Neg, Galaxy Commander. The jumpships are not showing any hostile intentions. They do not have any dropships with them. The dropships are probably all insystem. Four of the jumpships have their jumpsails furled and seem ready to jump. We have detected energy readings from them matching the profile of a ship going through a pre-jump check. The Star Commodore must be worried about their escape."

Lizabet mused over the information she had so far. Inner Sphere jumpships so far away from their homes. The houses and the Star League would not have sent such a large force without warship protection into the Periphery, so they must be from somewhere or someone else. Well, this certainly confirms Khan Pryde's assertion of this system's importance. Why else would these ships be here, with their dropships in system? This should be interesting.

The Jade Falcon fleet, carrying the entire Rho Galaxy, had made their way from the Jade Falcon Occupation Zone on the orders of Khan Marthe Pryde to this particular system on the edge of nowhere. Lizabet recalled her suspicion on being sent on a wild-goose chase when Khan Pryde informed her of a Star League major research base being situated in this system and her intention to send the entire Rho Galaxy to scour the world for artifacts and research data. 

The information for the base was discovered by a tech during a routine check of their data systems on Ironhold. The data was originally from a Brian cache information dump that had been claimed by the Falcons after the campaign to recover the Pentagon worlds. It seemed the information contained extremely sensitive information and was hidden deeply within the layers of data and would reveal itself only after a certain period of time, in this case almost 300 years after the fall of the first Star League.

The tech who discovered the information immediately informed his superiors, who then informed their own superiors and so on until the news reached the warriors of the clan. The scientists investigating the data were quickly convinced of its veracity and its Star League origins.

Containing incomplete technical data and advanced mathematical methods never seen before, even by the clan scientists, Khan Pryde was determined that her clan benefit from this unexpected windfall by uncovering the rest of the research data.

Rho Galaxy was sent as an insurance, in the event of hostile forces present on the world. Likewise, the warships were sent as protection. Lizabet was convinced, however, that this was the Falcon Command's way of demonstrating its silent disapproval of her and would be watching for any mistakes that could be construed as a reason to remove her from command.

Her encouragement of independent-minded thinking and non-standard tactics among the Galaxy had offended many senior officers within the extremely conservative and rigid Jade Falcons. She attributed their disdain to sheer jealousy, for her troops had often performed beyond their abilities and defeated supposedly superior units by use of innovative tactics. 

Lizabet had no desire to rise to the Khanship, however, and only wished to continue leading her warriors in battle. Khan Pryde had nonetheless expressed her dislike for Lizabet, and this journey had seemed like a no-win situation. Succeed, and she will probably be 'persuaded' to retire from active duty with glory, for having brought the clan a technological advantage over the other clans. Fail, and be relegated to the ranks of the solahma. No-win indeed.

The Falcons had emerged from the jump surprised to find other vessels at the jumppoint. Though a bit shocked, Star Commodore Valten Folkner had been quick to order the fleets' two warships after the jumpships to prevent any possible escape from the system.

Right now, the situation was looking grim for the spheroids. Of their ten jumpships, six were in no position to even consider escape. They could not cut their sails and jump out of the system in time, not with the warships closing quickly. The other four jumpships, one _Merchant, two__ Invaders, and one __Star Lord, were desperately trying to complete their jump preparations before they came within the warships' naval weapons range._

It was an agonizing minute for both sides, as the Falcons tried to get close enough for their weapons to fire, and the Inner Sphere jumpship crews tried to initiate the drive program for the jump.

"Star Commodore! The _Star Lord is__ within our weapons range!"_

Valten slammed one fist onto his command crouch. "Order all front gunners to fire at will! I want that _Star Lord before it jumps!"_

Upon his orders, the front gunners of the _Black Lion immediately fired their __Shark and __Barracuda missile systems. The longest ranging weapons of the warship, each system could launch a massive missile of 30 tons or more capable of tearing the largest armoured dropship to shreds. A lightly armoured jumpship would stand little chance against such weapons. The missiles burst from their launch tubes in a silent flash of light, propelled by long tongues of flame as they made their way to the hapless jumpships. Ever once in a while, a missile would adjust its course slightly, controlled by the warships' gunners._

A tech called out, "Missiles making final course corrections! Impact in 5 seconds. 4, 3, 2, 1, what in the name of Kerensky..."

A brilliant flare flashed in the view screen, an expanding globe of light first encompassing the deadly missiles, and then shrinking back to a pinpoint of light, which winked out soon after, leaving no trace of the weapons that were to be its doom.

Valten shouted to his crew, "They have jumped! Forget about them! Get the other ships!"

But no sooner had he uttered the command when the other three jumpships suddenly exploded into bright flashes of light as well, tearing holes in the fabric of space-time, leaving only empty space behind for the Falcons. The jumpships had succeeded in escaping the Falcon warships.

Valten was livid with barely suppressed rage. "By the Founder, we could have had them. Just a few more seconds and they would be nothing but dust amongst the stars," he said to Lizabet, as he stalked from his command chair to the holotank where Lizabet was strapped into a observation chair. The bridge was not located on the gravdeck, and since humanity had not discovered artificial gravity yet, they just had to make do with floating around in space.

"What about the other ships?" she asked.

"I will claim them as isorla. We are now sending marines aboard their ships. They should meet with little resistance. Their captains will still be commanding their own ships, but will ultimately take their orders from me. You will be leaving in the dropships soon, _quiaff?"_

"Neg," she replied, surprising Valten. "I want to find out about what and where the dropships with the jumpships are before I decide on our next course of action. We will need to interrogate the jumpship crews, though I believe it will not take much for our Elementals to pry the necessary information out of them."

"With the jumpships probably on their way back to the Inner Sphere, the corrupt Houses will know of our operation soon. We have no time to waste. Your Galaxy must set off for the Star League research base now, and strip it bare before the Houses know of this, if they have not sent a fleet here already."

"Your concerns are well-founded, yet I feel we must find out more about the occupants of the Inner Sphere dropships before we make a move."

"Then I suggest that the _White Aerie will remain at the jumppoint to cover the jumpships, as well as interrogate the Inner Sphere crews, while the __Blue Aerie escorts your Galaxy in system. The results of the interrogation can be sent to you quickly. This way, we will not waste precious time and find out more about any hostile forces on planet."_

"Bargained well and done. Your plan has merit, and I have a feeling we might need the might of your warship before long. " Lizabet agreed. "I shall now prepare for our system transit aboard the _Sword of Buhallin."_

With that, Lizabet Danforth floated out of the bridge of the _Blue Aerie, leaving Valten Folkner to wonder what dangers and opportunities could be waiting for them at their destination._

Captain Helene Rice took a deep breath. They had just skirted along the edge of disaster and had barely escaped intact. She remembered the bitter taste of bile in her mouth when the missile attack was reported. They had jumped literally at the last second. Another second and they would have been dead. In fact, the sour tang of fear was still there, rolling around in her mouth. She tried to put the fear aside. There was still a job to do.

"All stations, report." Her voice trembled a bit, but she did take pride in the fact that she did not break down.

"All systems functional!"

"No bogeys detected. Coast is clear at the jump point." The entire bridge crew visibly relaxed at that piece of news.

The comms officer reported, "Captains of the _Fisher, Kinsella and __Tayo reporting in. The captain of the __Tayo says his drive coils took a bit of damage in that last jump. That ain't repairable in the field, so he says he's staying put regardless of what happens next."_

_Damn, but we should consider ourselves lucky that we're alive at all. "Tell Captain Wu that his message is received and understood. Quentin, get the engineering section to start charging from the power plants."_

In system at a pirate point, there were often space objects capable of punching holes in the jump sails. Their present location also made it apparent that any deployment of the sails was foolish. To charge their jump drives, they would have to resort to using the jumpship's fusion reactor to supply the energy. While this method of charging was normally employed by skilled crews to cut down on charge time, doing it too quickly also carried the risk of damage to the drive systems. Ships employing their fusion reactors to charge their drives do so at a rate comparable to using jump sail, so as to avoid unnecessary damage to their jump systems.

The pirate point was situated just inside a system asteroid belt between the orbits of the second and third planets. The second planet was the habitable world with Star League bases. By Helene's reckoning, the dropships of the fleet should have landed already.

_They will not like the news I am going to send them, she thought. But then, who will like the news of a bunch of clanners coming on them like an avalanche? Certainly not a rabble of mercenaries looking for lostech on what they thought was a world without any hostiles._

Hopefully, the scanners of the clan ships would not detect the electromagnetic pulse generated by the jumpships' arrival. The jumpships were certainly far enough from the nadir jumppoint that the pulse would be extremely weak by the time it reached their position. Helene certainly felt that they deserved a dose of good luck after the disaster they just had.

She turned to her executive officer, Giroud. "I'm going to break the news to Forsen. Keep an eye on things for me. You have the bridge."

Gritting her teeth, she floated up to the communications console. "Crozy, I am going to record a message for Forsen. Someone has to tell him the bad news. Compress the message into a tight-beam zip squeal package and send it at the planet. They should receive it easily."

"Forsen's going to freak when he hears about what happened. How did the Falcons get here?" Crozy remarked as he toggled the buttons for a message recording.

"Well, they are probably after the same thing as the rest of us. But who would have thought they will arrive at the same time as us? Something is very fishy about this entire affair. I just hope we'll get out of this in one piece. The mercs have their work cut out for them."

"They can always run..."

Helene shook her head. "How? We have only four jumpships now, three if you consider the _Tayo to be crippled. That is not enough for everybody. No, I think the mercs will want to stand and fight the Falcons. After all, there's a lot of mercs. They can always run after some of them have died and there should be enough space then for the survivors."_

Crozy grimaced, "That's a morbid thought, Captain. Anyway, ready for your message." As he said that he gave up his seat for Helene to make the recording, using a handhold near the console to stay near his station to prevent himself from floating away.

Seating herself down, Helene Rice of the _Sevoto started to record her message for Forsen Mandela. "Forsen, this is Helene. We're now at the pirate point. I have some very bad news for you..."_


	4. Talking about the Past

_Drop Zone Alpha,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery,_

_2nd March 3068_

The _Nile landed safely, and the various mercs on board had disembarked from the dropship through its immense bay doors. The Wolf Dragoons company were the first out, moving their mechs out quickly and establishing a perimeter around the dropship for security. The Raiders company were the next to move out._

The landing zone was 4 kilometers from their designated neutrino trace site. Edged on three sides by dense forest, the location conveyed a sense of safety. Sensors were placed in the forest, while sentries were deployed on the one side not bounded by forest. The possible Star League base location was also in that direction.

In barely an hour's time, the mercenaries have set up a small camp around the thirty-story tall dropship. Many of them were extremely pleased to be on solid ground again, and just as many were glad to be free of the draining 1.5 G they had to endure on the trip in system.

Frank Meronac was one of the latter, and he was collecting soil and air samples for analysis to check for local bacteria and viruses on his own initiative, in his role as the dropship doctor. With him was Kily Gonzalez, the reckless young mercenary and Deserk, who had just finished his initial patrol sweep in his _Black Hawk_. The two had managed to come to a truce over the past few days, mostly due to Frank's efforts and his fervent wish not to patch up Kily again.

Unfortunately for Frank, Kily was trying to drag him away from his work, and it was getting on his nerves. "Hey Frank, lighten up! The air smells great, they say there's a freshwater stream a klick south from here with fish in it, and even the weather's great! Nobody said you have to do this analysis bullshit. Just relax and enjoy this world. This feels like a vacation!"

Deserk, as ever, was quick to rebut Kily. "Only you can treat this like a vacation when everybody else is preparing to strike out for the nearest base site. And besides, what Frank is doing is extremely important. When the Great Father led our people to the Pentagon worlds, many died during the initial landings on one world because they were not prepared for the native diseases. On an unknown world without any people, there is no telling what kinds of diseases are present. There are some threats you can never see, and some of them are more dangerous than any mech. Who knows, what he's doing could save your worthless freebirth life one of these days." Deserk grinned darkly at Kily as he said this.

"I wonder why the Captain hasn't got us moving towards the site yet. Setting up a camp seems to be a waste of time. We could just use the dropship as a base while we're on this rock." Frank wanted to sigh as he heard Kily trying to hide his ignorance by changing the topic.

Frank, who had been silent throughout the exchange, as he dug up samples from the soil and sealed the soil in plastic bags, spoke, "The camp is for any quick deployment of our combat units. How long did it take for all of us to get off the dropship?"

Kily thought about it a moment, then replied, "About thirty minutes."

"That's right, thirty minutes moving out from the dropship bay doors, with only a few possible exits. Any units moving out would be heavily outnumbered in the case of an attack against our position. We will be picked off piecemeal by any attackers if we had stayed in the _Nile. By establishing a camp, we improve our response times to any attack and can concentrate our force more easily."_

Deserk was impressed on hearing Frank's explanation. The man may only be a doctor and a rookie mechwarrior, but he had a keen mind that could dissect bodies and situations equally well. He was amazed that Frank had trained to be a doctor instead of being a soldier, which he was obviously well-suited for.

Kily rolled his eyes and flung up his hands. "Attack? What attack? There ain't anybody on this rock to make an attack. This place is deserted, remember?"

"Well then, what about the other mercs, or even pirate bands that may be hiding out here somewhere? You can never be too sure, and its safer to be prepared for the worst." Frank continued, "Kily, aren't you supposed to help set up the camp? So go and do some real work and stop bothering me. I don't know why, but I have a bad feeling about this whole thing."

Deserk laughed, "Nobody wants this fool around. He will only end up thrashing whatever they were trying to set up. I suspect Captain Vansen feels sorry he ever tried to hire this boy as a mechwarrior."

"Oh yeah? I'll have you know I am currently twenty years old. I am no longer a boy. And Captain Vansen hired me because I'm one of the best _Commando pilots around. What about you? You're over thirty now, and still only a lowly mechwarrior. Don't put on any airs. You're just as lousy as they come." An indignant Kily retorted._

"I have fought more battles than you have dreamed of, boy. Throughout the invasion, Luthien, the Dragoon civil war, Coventry, I have survived terrible battles, with no quarter asked or given. How many real battles have you been in?"

Kily snorted. "And look where all that has gotten you. You're just a lowly trooper."

Deserk nodded. "Once I might have aspired to rise to high rank, to gain a bloodname and bring glory and honor to my clan and bloodline, but no longer. I have realized that my destiny does not lie in that direction. Instead, I have found my own family, and a way to pass on my genes to the next generation. What need have I of the trappings of fame and rank any more?"

Frank was surprised. "The Dragoons have accepted your genes into their breeding system? I thought they did that only for those with bloodnames or honornames."

"No, the Dragoons have not taken my seed into the gene pool. I have opted for a more, uhm, traditional means of reproduction." An acutely embarrassed Deserk admitted.

It took Frank and Kily only moments before they figured out what Deserk was talking about, and they laughed heartily at his revelation. Kily was laughing so hard he seemed to have difficulty breathing.

"I can't believe it! A clanner actually got to do the birds and the bees! We must be corrupting you more than we thought." A wheezing Kily exclaimed.

"So, who's the lucky girl?" a grinning Frank asked, "Do your lancemates know about this?"

"She is a mechwarrior in Alpha regiment, and yes, my lancemates know and have been hassling me ever since." Deserk confessed, "I had never thought I would have ended up starting a normal, well, freeborn family when I was captured by the Dragoons on Luthien. Amazing what the vagaries of life can do to you. She was on pregnancy leave when last I saw her, four months ago when we left Outreach. She should be about to give birth at the Harlech hospital any time soon. Damn! I did not want to come on this trip, but duty is always more important than even blood."

"Don't worry about the birth. Medical technology nowadays is capable of miracles. A simple pregnancy isn't a problem for the doctors at Harlech." Frank assured his friend, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder, "I should know, I worked there for a short while before I got hired by Captain Vansen. Trust me, your child and the mother will be fine."

"You telling us," Kily inquired, surprised, "that you delivered babies before?"

"I'm a doctor, and trained in surgery. I have done deliveries before. A great experience, bringing a new life into the world. Deserk, it's a real shame you can't be present for the birthing of your child, but you can always make up for it when we get back to Outreach."

"If we make it back." Deserk seemed dubious at that prospect, remembering the visions from his dreams. "I have some doubts, you see, about how to bring up a child. I am a trueborn warrior, born from an iron womb and raised in a sibko where the only objective was to become a warrior and bring glory to the clan. The goal was certain, the intent was clear. In the Inner Sphere, however, children are brought up without any specific goals in life, save those they set for themselves. Having been in the Inner Sphere for over ten years, I have come to understand the need for the other castes, but I am still confused about how people decide on their castes as they come of age. What is the role of parents, and family? How did you, Frank, and you, Kily, decide on your current paths in life, and how did your parents and family play a part?"

"I wanted to be a mechwarrior since I was a kid," Kily answered easily. "My family was loaded with money, as my father's company controlled the hovercar industry in the Duchy of Oriente. I grew up wanting to be a warrior, but my parents wanted me to be a businessman instead. When I was eighteen, I couldn't stand their demands anymore, so I stole some money from my family fortune, and made my way to Solaris where I learnt to jockey a mech. After l learnt enough, I went to Outreach, where I bought a mech with my remaining money and signed on with Captain Vansen. My family, my parents, did not have anything to do with my decision to be a mechwarrior, except to show me exactly why I didn't want to be one of those stuffy, boring corporate types. And now, I am finally living my dream of being a mechwarrior, travelling to strange lands in search of danger and fortune. What about you, Frank? You know, I find it funny that you were a doc before you became a mechwarrior. How exactly was your family?"

When Frank did not answer immediately, Deserk pressed the question further. "Frank, we have been on the ship for a long time, and I think I have come to know you as a friend. But all we ever talked about thus far was my experiences as a mechwarrior and life among the clans. You seem reluctant to tell others about your own past. Is it due to shame, or is it because you think it is nothing to talk about? There is no shame in having a less than glorious past, or for being a doctor turned mechwarrior."

Consolidating the soil samples into a bundle of plastic, Frank started walking back to the dropship. The other two warriors followed, waiting for his answer, as he was trying to organize his thoughts. Frank replied only when he had reached the _Nile. His tone was hesitant, his answer unsure. His eyes lost their focus as he recalled his past._

"No, I did not tell anyone not because my past was shameful, but because I thought it did not matter, and because it's a long tale. I was an orphan, given over to the care of a family in a poor farming community on a Skid Row world when I was an infant. I never knew my real parents. Life was tough, and everybody sought a better life. Some managed to amass enough money that they were able to gain passage to another, more comfortable world. I too, wanted a better life, so I worked hard at school and helped out at the farm. The only piece of advanced machinery the entire town had was an agromech five centuries old. Because I had good hand-eye coordination, I was one of those chosen to help pilot the machine. It ran hot, you see, and no one could withstand the heat inside the cockpit for more than half an hour because the cooling fans were spoilt. Once a person got heat exhaustion in the mech, we would drag out him out and another of us would get into the mech to continue the work. We would have scrapped the mech if we could, but it was too useful for tilling, planting and harvesting. Without it, we couldn't have gotten enough food to feed ourselves, let alone sell what surplus we had for repairs to the town, for hiring teachers to get ourselves some education. The experience of piloting that piece of junk was more than enough to discourage any thoughts I had of being a mechwarrior. It was not fun, it was so hot and stifling. The fact that some folks died of heat stroke when they were in the agromech also destroyed any dreams of glory anyone had of piloting a mech. To us, there was none of the mystique surrounding battlemechs and their pilots. To us, they were only a tool, a tool of killing, a tool of war."

"I concentrated on my studies and did well at school, and managed to get noticed by the planetary duke. That was when I was twelve. He sent me to the only high school on Lackland, where I excelled. I got interested in helping people there, and eventually I decided that I wanted to be a doctor. I was the top student there, and then I was awarded a scholarship from the government to study medicine at the NAIS. It was an opportunity of a lifetime, one I could not pass up."

As Frank was talking, he had reached the sickbay and was setting up the apparatus for analyzing the soil samples. Deserk and Kily, meanwhile, found themselves chairs in the sickbay where they sat down to hear Frank's story.

"I was sixteen when I left my homeworld for New Avalon. I remembered being thrilled at the thought of travelling between the stars. I spent the next few years studying medicine at the NAIS, and I blazed through the eight year medicine course in six years. It wasn't all study and no play, however. Due to a physical requirement for graduation, I had to take up a sports module. Somehow, I managed to get into the fencing course, where I proved to be a natural at the sport. Due to the instructor's insistence, I even represented the NAIS at the fencing meets, and humiliated more than one military cadet from the CMS and Albion." Frank smiled as he remembered first the taunts, and then later the respect from his opponents as he proved his skill with a rapier.

"The military academy instructors were impressed, and wanted me to join them, to train as a mechwarrior. I said no, however, the pain of piloting the agromech back home still fresh in my mind. Looking back in hindsight, I guess I should have taken them up on their offer."

"I completed my studies in the midst of the brewing Fed-Com civil war, and got shipped out along with a group of graduates to Bromhead, where I would serve part of my bond with the military, in this case the 2nd Davion Guards. It was on Bromhead where we were when the civil war broke out. And then I fought on Sirdar…"

Deserk and Kily both raised their eyebrows. Evidently, they were surprised by Frank's revelation.

"When the civil war finally erupted, the Guards were not alone on Bromhead. There were also the 22nd Avalon Hussars and Hansen's Roughriders, who both supported Katherine Steiner-Davion. Although the Guards supported Prince Victor, war didn't break out on Bromhead. We went on to Sirdar, where we fought for the first time in the war, against the Sirdar Capellan March Militia, 4th Donegal Guards, and the 2nd Chisholm Raiders. I was a doctor, and I wasn't supposed to take sides. But when the Pro-Katherine units started herding pro-Davion supporters into prisoner camps on the Ice-Bitch's orders, it was clearly against everything the Federated Suns had stood for. I still tried to save lives regardless of their loyalties, but I was slowly coming to the opinion that Katherine supporters could go rot in hell for all I care. My Hippocratic oath still bound me, though, so I did my job as best as I could."

"The Guards were slowly losing ground, even with the Illician Lancers as support, as the combined force of the Donegal Guards and the Raiders gave them a distinct mech advantage. It was during one particularly stormy night that I was finally forced into a battlemech cockpit. It seemed fate wanted nothing else for me..."


	5. Forlorn Hope

_Rodiach Forest,_

_Sirdar, Sirdar PDZ,_

_Capellan March, Federated Suns,_

_27th May 3063_

Frank Meronac was tired, dead tired. The field hospital he was presently working in was crammed with the dead and dying. A steady stream of bodies was still coming in from the front, where the fighting had been especially brutal. The doctors in the hospital have been pushed to beyond their limits of endurance, yet the wounded and dying kept on coming, pleading with the overworked doctors to try to save their lives.

In many cases, there was nothing the doctors could do. The stench of rotting flesh was already threatening to overwhelm the present occupants of the hospital, doctors, nurses and patients alike. The piteous cries of the dying and wounded were not helping matters any either. Frank had been one of those advocating the burial of the dead, but right now with all available troops off fighting the overwhelming Loyalist forces, there weren't even enough men for a burial detail.

Crouching outside one of the makeshift hospital's tents, Frank took in a deep breath of clean, fresh forest air. Noting the dark clouds in the sky, he realized another storm, a big one was coming soon. _Good, maybe this will break off the fighting. This will give us a chance to collect our wounded and the hospital a breather. However, he also knew that it was the terrible weather that was the cause of the severe reversals they had suffered in the last few days._

Suddenly a soldier appeared, an officer by the insignia on his combat vest, beside the tent. He shouted out over the hospital. "Anyone here is a mech pilot? We need volunteers for a mission! I don't care if all you have jockeyed before is a loggermech or agromech. As long as you know how to move a mech, please step up! This is for an extremely important mission!"

"What is going on?" Frank asked him. "A big storm is coming, the fighting should be dying down."

"If only that were true." The officer replied. It was then Frank noticed the officer's left arm was soaked in blood. "The bad weather means our arty and aerospace wouldn't be able to support our ground troops, and we have been taking horrendous losses for the entire afternoon. The loyalists aren't much better off, but they still have more mechs, and if we don't draw part of their force off, they are going to break through our lines soon. One of the MASH units near the front has already been overrun, and it seems the wounded there have all been killed. Even the medical personnel were not spared. Damn bastards! We cannot let them through our lines, or they will slaughter everyone here. This call for volunteers is for a group of mechs to act as a decoy, to draw off enemy forces, while we move everybody back further into our territory."

"Don't you have trained pilots?" Frank was getting anxious at the thought of mechs attacking non-combatants.

"Nope. We are clean out of spare pilots. All the trained pilots are holding the line, so that leaves us with only those foolish enough to climb into our repaired mechs to act as target practice." The officer laughed bitterly.

It was clear to Frank that this was a last throw of the dice, a last all or nothing effort to gain a stalemate. He had not climbed into a mech cockpit for the past ten years, and he still shuddered at the memory of the overheating, tottering agromech they had used on the farm. He did not want to be a mechwarrior, yet if he did not volunteer, the hospital could be wiped out. There was simply no other choice.

"Sign me up." Frank told the officer.

"Excuse me, doctor, what did you say?" The disbelieving officer asked, incredulous at the response.

"I said, sign me up for the mission! I was an agromech pilot in my youth. Well, you wanted mech pilots, didn't you? I'm what you asked for, so let's not waste any more time, and get moving! Every minute we spend here dawdling means the bloody bastards are getting closer!"

As they were talking, there had been no other response from the other hospital staff.

The officer sighed. "Alright, I guess you are all I'm gonna get from this place. Come on, follow me." He walked towards a jeep, with Frank close behind.

Travelling in the jeep, they reached a mech depot after ten minutes of hard road. The depot was next to a dilapidated and abandoned village, fronting a vast farmland. There were, to Frank's untrained eye, four battered mechs being worked on by the techs. As they left the jeep and approached the mechs, they could see three people waiting near the mechs, all dressed in mechwarrior cooling vests. One of the three saluted the officer upon their arrival at the foot of the mechs.

"Captain, we have got two volunteers from the infantry. They say they have piloted mechs before."

The officer returned the salute, and told the soldier, "Corporal Greene, this is Doctor Frank Meronac. He's to be your fourth pilot. Doc, this is Corporal Greene. He's in charge of the decoy mission and the only trained mech pilot we could spare. Whatever you do, follow his lead. I've spent too much time here, I have to get back to HQ." Nodding to the two infantry volunteers, the officer wished them luck. "You'll need it."

Corporal Greene did not waste any time. He quickly got Frank to put on a cooling vest, and led the trio of volunteers to the mechs. Gesturing them to get into the mechs, he climbed into his own mech, a _Stealth that had seen far better days__. Frank was guided by the techs to the cockpit of his mech, which they told him was a extremely fast __Dart. The former pilot of the __Dart had been killed when he got hit by a PPC shot to the cockpit. The techs had just finished patching up the cockpit from the remains of the cockpits of other mechs. This mech was to be Frank's ride. As Frank had not been trained for this, he was being guided every step of the way by the anxious chief tech._

"Put on the neurohelmet behind the seat. I'll help you attach the connections to your head. Here, the cooling feeds go this way. Okay, we're now starting up the mech, you'll feel a bit of vertigo due to feedback from the mech's gyroscope. Don't worry, it's normal for a new pilot. We'll calibrate the settings to your brainwave patterns, so you won't feel a thing after that." As the tech spoke, Frank did feel a sense of nausea and vertigo wash over him when the mech systems came online.

"I really hope you know how to use one of these beasts, because you're our last hope. There won't be any security protocols, so just start moving once all the lights on your board, this side," the tech gestured to a panel, "are green. Good hunting, sir."

With that, the tech closed the cockpit door, leaving Frank to deal with the controls. Quickly recalling the memories of piloting the agromech back home, Frank grasped the movement stick. He watched as the lights on the panel the tech gestured to turned green.

"Alright, people, this is Corporal Greene." A voice sounded over into his ears from the neurohelmet. "I'm going to call you guys one by one. Answer if you are ready to move out. Doc?"

"Ready." Frank was too nervous to say more.

"Dennings?"

"I'm, uh, I'm ready." To Frank, Dennings seemed even more nervous than he was.

"Lieutenant Fiore?"

"I'm ready to move out." Unlike her two fellow volunteers, the lieutenant's voice was strong and confident.

"Alright, move your mechs out of the bays slowly. Keep a light hand on the stick, and you'll be fine. Wrath Lead, this is Forlorn One. We're moving out of the mech bays."

"Forlorn One, this is Wrath Lead." A tired voice sounded over the comm. The sound of multiple explosions could be heard in the background. "Go according to the plan. Don't stop for any enemies. Just get to their flanks and get their attention. And, finally, good luck." He sounded like a death knell for the decoy lance.

Meanwhile, the mechs of the decoy unit had moved out of the bays surprisingly without any problems. Frank was surprised to find that the _Dart's controls are extremely responsive, unlike the sluggish manner of the agromech. Looking at his identification program, Frank found out that Dennings was piloting a __Fireball, while Lieutenant Fiore had a __Cicada. All fast, but lightly armored mechs. Speed was going to be essential if they are going to survive this mission, which was looking more and more like a suicide run._

Corporal Greene came over the comm again. "We are going to skirt the flanks of the battlefield, and try to get some of their mechs' attention. We drag them outta position, then we try to lead 'em back to some of our own tanks who are waiting in ambush. Push your throttle up to about 100 clicks per hour, and stay close behind me. I'm going to teach you rookies some basics of shooting, sensors and the like as we head for the front, so listen carefully. We won't have time for practice, so you had better get it right straight from the get-go."

For the next ten minutes, the makeshift lance made their way over the farmlands, with Corporal Greene quickly giving them instructions on the basics of targeting, shooting and torso-twisting. Frank tried to remember as much of them as he could, but without any practice, and trying to remember while guiding a mech at 100 kph, it was an impossible task.

As they approached the edges of the battlefield, where another dense forest was located, Frank could see flashes of light off into the distance. Apparently, that was where most of the action was.

"We are moving nearer their main force now, for their mechs to pick us up. Once I pick up mechs in pursuit, I will turn away and head back to our lines, where we have friendlies in wait. Don't stop to fight, just run with me. With luck, you won't have to fire a single shot."

As the Corporal was speaking, the decoy lance had entered the forest, and were turning towards the direction of the flashes of light. As they inched towards the main battleground, Frank noticed on his radar several red blips, and they seem to be approaching his position fast.

"Damn, they have picked us up." Greene had noticed as well. "Start moving back, people!"

Suddenly, there appeared four more red blips on Frank's radar screen, directly beside their position. Before anyone could react to the appearance of the new threat, Dennings' _Fireball was rocked by a series of autocannon hits, the kinetic rounds shattering armour in a series of pock-mark explosions. As he struggled to bring his mech under control, a volley of laser and PPC blasts erupted from a position deeper in the forest, the first few shots tearing into the light mech's armour, which barely held up for more than a second before the rest of the volley went into the innards of the __Fireball. There was a panicked cry over the comm as Dennings screamed for help._

"The board's red all over! Engine's going critical! Arrggghhh!"

There was a terrific explosion as the _Fireball's engine, unable to shut down in time, lost control of its containment field, resulting in a uncontrolled fusion reaction, tearing the light mech apart in a orange ball of nuclear flame._

Frank's blood ran cold at how quickly Dennings died. It was a trap, pure and simple, and it was going to turn into a slaughter if somebody did not do something soon.

"Everybody break and move! Its a trap!" Corporal Greene tried to get his lance moving before the ambushing mechs got off another shot.

As the mechs of the decoy lance scattered, Frank tried to get a reading on the enemy mech lance that had surprised them. A _Jagermech III, two __Enforcer IIIs, and a __Blackjack. Terrible odds for the decoy lance, and even so now as they were down to three mechs, one trained, and two untrained pilots._

The enemy mech lance was stepping out from the forest, ready to pummel the rest of Frank's lance. Looking at his map, Frank realized the enemy lance was right in the middle of their retreat path. Any attempt by the decoy lance to escape back to their lines would probably end up in their destruction by the heavier mechs. Evidently, Greene knew it too.

"Everyone, cut off to the side, and fire as you move. You're going to flank them, then get round them. Once past their lines, just dash straight back to the depot. I'll try to keep their attention on me. Doc, keep an eye on the approaching mechs. Tell me when they get within five hundred meters."

Frank stared incredulously at the _Stealth. __Easier said than done. It really is not easy piloting a mech and keeping an eye on our 'friends' at the same time. How do these mechwarriors do it? Dammit! The Enforcers __are shooting at me!_

Frank wrenched hard on his control stick, trying desperately to evade the deadly medium-heavy autocannon rounds being spewed out by the _Enforcers. He mostly succeeded, with only a few stray shots hitting the torso of his __Dart. Pushing the mech to its maximum speed of 140 kilometers per hour, he followed Greene's orders in heading out to the flanks of the enemy lance. At this stage in time, he was too rattled to even consider twisting his mech's torso around to use his medium lasers on the enemy mechs._

Meanwhile, Greene had jumped his _Stealth right into the midst of the enemy formation, unleashing his medium lasers and short-range missiles into the enemy __Jagermech. The weapons had little effect on the heavy mech, but managed to throw off its aim on Fiore's __Cicada. The __Jagermech's PPC shots and autocannon rounds flew off into the night._

Firing her autocannon in a raking pattern at the _Jagermech, Fiore managed to score a solid series of hits. Moving behind Frank, she tried to push the __Cicada up to running speed before the other enemy mechs could react._

The _Blackjack had also been drawing a bead on the __Cicada, and chose this moment to fire its weapons before the __Cicada could move further to the side of the battle.  One of its two PPCs slammed into the __Cicada's left side, tearing away the armour and leaving the internals of the mech bare. The other PPC shot missed high. Its two medium lasers flensed away more armour from the __Cicada's center torso and left arm._

The _Cicada staggered under the ruinous assault, and barely kept its balance as it raced through the forest behind Frank's __Dart. It was clear even to Frank's novice eye that the __Cicada could not withstand another concerted attack, with any shot hitting the torso likely to damage or destroy the engine._

Greene's _Stealth continued its attack on the __Jagermech at point blank range, taking advantage of the enemy mech's poor close combat abilities. The __Stealth's lasers stabbed into the __Jagermech, followed by a furious volley of missiles as Greene sought to take the enemy lance's heaviest mech out of the action by firing every weapon at his disposal._

Returning fire with only its medium lasers, as they were the only weapons it has for close combat, the Jagermech was having the worst of the exchange, if not for one of the _Enforcers that had turned its guns away from Frank to fire on the __Stealth._

Greene's _Stealth shuddered as it was attacked by the __Enforcer's ultra autocannon and extended range large laser, the shots hitting its right arm and center torso._

Frank, who had been keeping one eye glued to his radar screen while trying to weave the _Dart through the forest without hitting any trees, was too busy to notice the __Stealth's distress. Running the ID program once the red blips approaching their position were within seven hundred meters, Frank got even more bad news. The mechs approaching consists of a __Rakshasa, another __Jagermech, a __Falconer, and a __Charger. According to the Warbook program, all fast heavies, each with ample firepower to take down the battered decoy lance by itself. He quickly communicated the news to Corporal Greene._

"That's good news!" Corporal Greene was panting heavily now, as he had been pushing the heat curve of his mech to its limit. "Each heavy drawn off to deal with us small fry means one less heavy at the front. Keep moving, and try to avoid getting hit."

The _Blackjack and the __Enforcer that had not turned its attention to the __Stealth jumped in pursuit of the __Cicada, intent on bringing it down. Firing all their weapons, they tried to finish off the __Cicada. The __Enforcer hit with its large laser, melting armour on the __Cicada's right leg. The __Blackjack missed with every weapon except its PPC, the PPC hitting the most vulnerable location on the __Cicada._

Its left torso.

The extra light engine of the _Cicada was its most vulnerable feature, and many pilots hated the mech for this reason alone, as any destruction of the torsos would result in an engine shutdown. This instance was no exception, and Fiore's mech crashed to the ground as the mech lost power to its limbs, unable to continue its ill-fated flight when the engine shut down due to excessive damage._

Frank began to panic. Glancing at his navigation screen, he could not make out where he was supposed to go next or even what direction his own lines are. Gulping down his fear, he pushed his mech deeper into the forest, trying to shake off his pursuers with the _Dart's sheer speed._

He did not notice the _Stealth, valiantly engaging the __Jagermech, succumb to the overwhelming firepower arrayed against him when the heavy lance arrived, or that Corporal Jonas Greene intentionally brought his doomed mech close to the __Jagermech as the __Stealth's ammunition stores exploded, taking one last enemy with him to the grave._


	6. Unlikely Victory

_Dropship _Nile_, Drop Zone Alpha,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery,_

_2nd March 3068_

"How did you get ambushed? I thought the _Stealth was equipped with a Beagle Probe, that should have picked up the mechs in the forest." Deserk asked._

Frank glanced up for a moment. "I found out later the _Stealth was already damaged in an earlier fight. Presumably, the probe must have gotten destroyed. It was a damn shame. Greene seemed like a fine man. He was willing to sacrifice his own life to allow us a chance to get away." Frank sighed at the memory._

An eager Kily asked, "So what happened next?"

_Hitteu Forest,_

_Sirdar, Sirdar PDZ,_

_Capellan March, Federated Suns,_

_27th May 3063_

Frank had no idea where he was, or where he was heading. It had started raining a short while after he had managed to escape the ambush, and had now turned into a full-fledged storm. Visibility outside his _Dart was extremely poor, and he had to slow down to avoid falling over unseen obstacles._

In the dense forest, maneuvering was even more difficult, and he had collided with several trees already when he failed to notice them when travelling at high speed. He had ended up rattled every time, along with a headache when his head collided with the screen. Thankfully, the neurohelmet had lessened the impact, leaving him still in command of his faculties. He had wanted to slow down to walking speed, but the red blips still appearing sporadically on his radar screen gave him little choice, indicating the enemy mechs were still pursuing him. And so Frank had little choice but to push his mech as fast as he dared in the tight confines of the forest, trying to keep one step ahead of his enemies.

The storm had given Frank some advantage, though, even if he did not know it at the time. The severe weather conditions had forced all aircraft and VTOLs back to their bases, as well as restricting most vehicles to their present posts due to the ground which was quickly turning to mud, leaving only mechs to operate in these conditions. The pursuing mechs were unable to match the _Dart's speed, however, so Frank was still able to maintain a safe distance from them._

In the direction of Frank's desperate flight roughly a forty kilometers on was the town of Xinghua. Once populated by chinese refugees from the Capellan Confederation, the town's inhabitants had all been relocated to prisoner camps for harboring pro-Victor sentiments. The loyalist units then took over the town, and turned it into their main supply base. They also constructed an airfield near the town for faster response on the battlefield by their aerowings. The town would have been a primary target of the fighters of the Davion Guard and Illician Lancers, if not for the strong anti-air defenses the Donegal Guards had erected to protect the supplies. The presence of a heavy mech lance and a company of infantry as security also served to discourage attack. Any attackers that managed to slip behind the main battle lines would normally be too light or damaged to deal with the base defenders. In theory, the VTOLs would also be deployed to harass and bring down any attackers approaching the base. That is, in theory.

The heavy storm reduced visibility, however, and the strong winds made any operation of VTOLs in the air a suicidal proposition. While infantry were able to move about on the pavement roads of the town, even the mechs were having some difficulty keeping their balance on the slick surface. In a rare, but understandable oversight, the officers of the Chisholm Raiders and Donegal Guards did not consider the sole _Dart that had slipped behind their lines to be of any threat to the supply base. They believed that their mechs in pursuit would be able to bring it down soon, and that the heavy mech lance at the supply base would be more than enough to eliminate the __Dart if it somehow reached the supply base. They had more important things to worry about._

They should have taken the weather into account.

Frank's haphazard path was not helping matters any for the two pursuing lances either. One moment he would be heading towards the main battlefield, and the next he would be heading back to his own lines, before changing his course yet again. The lack of VTOL support in this case was especially telling, as they would have been able to locate the _Dart easily and pinpoint its location for destruction by the heavy mechs. There was no VTOL support forthcoming in the stormy weather, however, so the Hussar mechs were left guessing at the __Dart's true intentions._

Frank was simply moving his _Dart away from his pursuers. The changes in course were caused when he changed his heading whenever he had to avoid a tree. By this point, he was getting used to the feel of the mech and was able to keep his balance travelling over the slippery mud in the forest. He still had no idea of his next move, however._

After an hour of travelling through the forest, Frank could feel the trees of the forest thinning gradually. The storm was still going strong, and he could barely see twenty meters out from his cockpit due to the heavy rain. He wondered if he had managed to make his way back to the farmlands the decoy lance had traveled over when they had left the mech depot. _I guess I had better push on to find out. I don't want those mechs coming after me._

Frank was surprised, however, to see a faint outline of a town appearing as he left the confines of the forest. _I don't remember passing by a town in the farmlands. Looking around his surroundings as he approached the town, he was shocked to see himself moving over what seemed to be a runway track. He quickly pushed the __Dart on, getting close to one of the buildings at the end of the runway. Seeing the insignia of the 4th Donegal Guards, Frank finally figured out his present location._

_I must have stumbled over one of their bases. Where are the defenders, though?_

Just as the thought occurred to him, a red blip had appeared on the radar directly ahead of him. It was clearly one of the base defenders, out on patrol. With mechs still behind him, and now one right in front of him, and also closing fast, there seemed to be no way out. Frank quickly got his fear under control, and had the _Dart up to walking speed, as he tried to find something to shoot at before the red blip got close enough to fire at him. He certainly was not going to go down without firing at some worthwhile target first! Moving the __Dart around the immediate area, he was gratified to find what seemed to be fuel tanks about thirty meters away from him. Moving closer to confirm his suspicions, he could just barely make out the large words painted on the objects, "AEROSPACE FUEL"._

Seeing the red blip on his radar screen approaching his position quickly, Frank quickly moved back about thirty meters, keeping his targeting reticule centered over the middle of the gradually fading outlines of the tanks. Whispering a quick prayer to God, he fired all his medium lasers at the fuel tanks. _God, don't let me miss._

Frank was not a trained shot in a mech, yet at this distance, nobody could have missed such a large target. The laser lances punctured the light skin of the fuel tanks, and ignited the fuel contained within, causing a massive explosion.

The shockwave of the explosions pummeled the light _Dart, damaging its front armour, but Frank just barely managed to keep the mech upright. He knew that if he had fallen, he would be unable to get the mech up from a prone position. Glancing at his damage screen, he was shocked to see that the most of the armour on the front of the __Dart were gone. __The explosion must have been more powerful than I thought. Maybe I should have stood a little further away before I fired my lasers.­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­ Well, that's one thing to remember when I get to do this again. If __I ever get to do this again._

He started the _Dart moving towards the lone mech heading towards him from deeper within the town, figuring that he might stand a better chance facing one mech instead of the lance of mechs pursuing him._

He changed his mind after just 400 meters in the direction of the enemy mech. It was an assault-class _Stalker, 85 tons of sheer firepower, along with the armour to keep it in a fight long enough to destroy opponents with its numerous weapons. There was no way in the world that his 25 ton mech would be able to defeat the __Stalker, which was three times his mech's weight and carried more than the __Dart's weight in weaponry alone._

Knowing that the _Dart's speed was his only advantage over the __Stalker, Frank decided to make a dash past the __Stalker. With a great deal of luck, and with the aid of the weather, he might just be able to make an end run past the __Stalker before it pounds the __Dart into scrap._

Pointing the _Dart at an angle of 30 degrees from the direction of the oncoming __Stalker, he got the __Dart up to its maximum speed of 140 kph. He had never been so scared in his life, not even when the decoy lance got ambushed in the forest._

He suddenly thought of Clarice, his good friend and classmate. _She's probably still studying in the NAIS, doing her internship. I wonder how is she coping? Had the civil war erupted on New Avalon as well? Is she thinking of me now? And why am I thinking of her at this time, of all times? Damn it, keep your thoughts focused!_

Shaking his head to get rid of his stray thoughts, Frank tried to refocus his attention on the _Stalker, which the __Dart was rapidly approaching. Due to the heavy rain and poor visibility, he could only depend on the __Dart's sensors to inform him of the __Stalker's location. Presumably, he thought the same went for the __Stalker pilot, so targeting would be a problem._

What Frank had not learnt about mech targeting systems was that there was also a infrared radiation mode, which would pick up on mechs easily, as mechs radiate a lot of heat, even when not actively moving or firing their weapons. The _Stalker pilot, having no such gap in his knowledge of mech systems, had already switched his sensors and targeting systems over to infrared mode, and was not having any difficulty in detecting Frank's __Dart. The __Dart's speed was a big problem, however, and leading the shot was also not easy with the mech approaching at an angle. The __Stalker had now halted its movement, and was concentrating on its attack on the __Dart._

When the _Dart passed within 40 meters of the __Stalker, the assault mech fired its entire arsenal. Luckily for Frank, the missiles, both long-range and short-range, all missed, as the strong winds affected the flight paths of the missiles, making them miss his __Dart. The energy weapons of the __Stalker were another matter, though, and several of them hit his mech._

The large laser tore into the _Dart's left leg, removing all the armour. Not all the energy was expended, and much of it went on to melt away the internal structure of the leg. A foot actuator was destroyed, much to Frank's consternation. Two of the medium lasers hit various parts of the torso, stripping away the remaining few armour shreds and nibbled at the innards of the mech, but failing to damage any critical components._

Frank refused to look at the damage screen, knowing that the damage was bad and that the _Dart cannot possibly withstand another salvo. The __Dart was hobbling badly now, with its foot actuator destroyed. He had gotten past the __Stalker, however, and now he headed into the town, with the __Stalker in hot pursuit, but hampered by its own heat levels after firing its entire arsenal._

The _Dart suddenly rocked with the impact of multiple missiles. Frank was surprised, as he had not detected any mechs. It was only a few scant seconds before he saw the small shapes in front of his mech and realized what, or more accurately, who had launched the missiles._

It was infantry, now directly in the path of his mech. With the _Dart still moving at better than a hundred kilometers per hour, there was no time for the infantry to get out of the mech's path, after firing their SRMs, and no time for Frank to halt the __Dart._

The _Dart plowed through the ranks of the infantry, crushing bodies and flinging soldiers up into the air as they were kicked by the mech's legs. Frank could feel the impact of the bodies of the infantrymen with the __Dart as faint jerks in the mech. He could hear the terrible screams of the soldiers when they died, and see the bloodstains thrown up on his windshield slowly washed away by the incessant rain as he left the infantry behind him._

He felt like throwing up_. Oh my God, I've become a killer. All those soldiers, dead by my hand. I am a doctor. I was supposed to save lives, not take them. I've not wanted to kill anyone, just give the troops time to hold the line and evacuate the hospital if necessary. Damn this war!_

He brought the _Dart gradually to a stop, as he came up against a cul-de-sac in the street he was on. Turning his mech around to an intersection, he was stunned to see a massive pile of crates and various gantries with vehicles parked near the crates._

A warning tone informed him that the _Dart had just entered the weapons range of the approaching __Stalker. Frank turned the mech towards the crates, hoping to seek some cover amongst the several story high piles instead of the low-rise buildings of the town._

The _Stalker had halted again, trying to get off a good shot to put the __Dart down for good. Frank knew that if he failed to reach the crates in time, he will probably be dead. With the __Dart running for all it was worth, Frank was sweating heavily from the events of the last few minutes._

The _Dart would have made it too, if not for a supply vehicle parked in its way. Frank noticed the vehicle when it was only twenty meters away, and tried desperately to change the __Dart's direction._

As any mech jock knew, piloting a mech on pavement was harder than driving a vehicle on the same surface. Mechs were extremely prone to skidding on pavement as they change direction, and it became harder to maintain the mech's balance as its speed increased. The momentum of the mech would frequently keep the mech moving in its original direction even as it changed its facing. Elite pilots were able to take advantage of this in city-fighting as they could fire while moving in another direction. For poorer pilots, however, they could only fall down.

Frank was a poor pilot.

The _Dart refused to obey the instructions coming from the cockpit, even though its facing had changed. The task was not helped by the slippery ground, and the spoiled foot actuator. Continuing on its path, it was all Frank could do to keep the mech upright. It was an effort doomed to failure, when the __Dart tumbled over the supply vehicle. As the __Dart flipped head over heels over the vehicle, Frank was driven into unconsciousness as his head slammed into his controls. He did not see the inadvertent results of his unexpected fall._

The _Stalker had chosen the exact same moment to fire its weapons. But the __Dart's fall had taken it off the targeting sights as the pilot depressed the triggers, leaving the weapons with no target and no destination except what was directly in front of them._

The crates containing supplies and ammunition for the loyalist forces.

Aboard the dropship _Nile_, Frank shook his head woefully. "I only found out about that when some infantry from the Davion Guards dug me out from what was left of my first battlemech. It turns out the destruction of the supplies and fuel for the aerofighters in the town completely changed the campaign. The allied troops were able to hold out long enough for the 1st Fed Suns Armored Cav, the Davion Light Guards, and the 9th Illician. They went on the attack almost immediately, and the loyalists were pushed offworld soon after."

"I spent the next four months at a hospital in Selkirk on Sirdar recovering from broken ribs and a fractured leg. Before I left to rejoin the Guards, who were fighting elsewhere then, I was given a load of money by the planetary governor, in appreciation of my efforts."

Frank laughed, "Actually, he was grateful because if the Katrina supporters had won, they would have discovered that he had been embezzling funds to finance his own schemes. The money he gave me was peanuts compared to what he had taken from the government, and he was later pardoned when the Prince won on New Avalon."

"I spent the rest of the civil war with the 2nd Davion Guards as they fought their way to New Avalon. It was a bloody road to New Avalon, and the last campaign on New Avalon itself was the worst of them all. As you know, we won, but it was a bloodbath."

"I did manage to get some simulation time, however, and when the war ended General Mitchell offered me a place at one of the military academies on New Avalon. I couldn't get the deaths of the men I killed out of my mind, however, and I had no wish to fight, not after my first taste of war. I had enough.

Frank said ruefully, "I had lined up a job at a pharmaceutical company researching and designing drugs, after I had reimbursed the government with some of the money I had."

"My plans went awry, when my girlfriend's father refused to let us meet until I had made my mark in the world. So I abandoned the research job, traveled to Outreach, and spent the last of my money on a battlemech training course. It is easier after all, to gain fame and fortune in war. I had no other choice. Eleven months later, here I am."


	7. Tough Talk

_Dropship _Nile_, Drop Zone Alpha,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery,___

_2nd March 3068_

Inside the sickbay of the _Nile, as Frank was talking about his war experiences to his friends, a great deal of his attention was also fixated on the analysis of the soil samples he had collected. After finishing his story, he had spent two hours doing his analysis, using a microscope to check out the bacteria present. The other two mercenaries simply sprawled themselves on the most comfortable spots, the sickbeds._

"Wait a minute, this cannot be right!" Frank exclaimed suddenly, veering back away from the light microscope he had been using.

"The other two mechwarriors, who had been grabbing a quick nap on the comfortable beds in the sickbay, woke up upon his loud comment.

"What happened? Is there an attack? What!" Kily was waving his hands around wildly, frantic at the thought of being stuck on the dropship, away from his mech.

"What's the matter?" Deserk was noticeably much calmer, shifting around the bed to stand near Frank at the apparatus.

Using organism analysis kits purchased from Outreach, Frank had ran a series of tests on the soil to try to identify any bacteria or viruses that may be detrimental to the health of the mercenaries. He was surprised to find that there was not a single microorganism trying to attack the human cells provided in the kits, which was unheard of, especially on worlds with a ecology as rich as Einstein's.

"There's nothing in the soil and the air which is attacking the human cells in the test kits. This is just impossible." Frank shook his head. "On worlds with already existing life-forms, there are always microorganisms or viruses that enter the human body and try to infect, occupy or attack the body cells. Viruses more or less have some ability to enter cells by protein linking sites on the cells, while bacteria are able to live off the body's systems and sometimes even attack body cells. Much of the time the effect is minimal, and the body's natural defenses are able to deal with any foreign intruders. But over here it's not that the effect is minimal. _There's no effect at all!"_

As he waited for that fact to sink in, he plunged onto his findings, "And there seems to be tiny dots moving around the cells, which cannot be viruses as they are a bit too large, but they do not seem to be bacteria either. The shapes are all wrong, and they are moving around too quickly. There isn't a stronger microscope here I can use to examine these things, which is a damn shame. I think we may be onto something on this world, after all."

Kily waved aside Frank's findings, "Who cares about a bunch of bugs? I would rather we get some hot lostech from here. That's what the houses will pay good money for, not a bunch of funny looking bugs!"

At that moment, sirens suddenly started going off, along with a tense message over the PA system. "All personnel please report to the mech bays. Repeat, all personnel please report to the mech bays."

Almost immediately after the message, they could hear the sounds of boots pounding on the deck on the dropship as crew members made their anxious way to the bays.

"We had better go there now." Frank seemed reluctant to abandon his work, but orders are orders. "Something's up. And I don't think it's good."

Forsen Mandela could not imagine how much more cruel Fate could be for him, but he was finding out. The message from Helene had initially threatened to send him over the edge, when she mentioned the arrival of clanners. It was clear that they are in the system for only one thing, and that was the lostech that could be found on Einstein.

He had wanted to cut his losses and run, all the way back to the Inner Sphere. He had quickly reconsidered, upon realizing that there were still better than 8 regiments of mercenaries on the planet able to oppose the Jade Falcons. There was still a chance to turn a profit, a chance to gain success in this venture.

He had sent the contents of the message to all the other dropships on planet, along with his own message to stand up to the clanners no matter what the cost. They had traveled too far to give up now. It would also take at least three days before the clanners arrived, more than ample time for them to scour the planet for its secret bases, as well as remove any items of value before the clanners arrived. With some luck, they might even find something that could give them an edge over the clans, something that will negate their formidable technological advantage.

But right now, he had to convince the troops he was transporting to stay and fight, if necessary. There was the elite Dragoons company, which almost certainly did not need much convincing to fight the Falcons, considering the bad blood between the two sides that developed on the clan border over the years, even without the Dragoons origins as part of the clans. Then there was Vansen's Raiders, an average mech company that fought in the Chaos March. They would need a bit of persuasion. Finally, there was the tank company, which by all accounts was geared for city fighting, and totally unsuitable for facing the clans. They would be slaughtered in a fight in the open, and their commander, Captain Omo, would be less than anxious to face the clans. Forsen might even have to resort to threats to get Omo to cooperate.

Now waiting in the massive mech bay on a makeshift podium, which is actually a mech repair crane, he tried to gather his thoughts for the coming argument. Most of the mercenaries, and all of his crew have already gathered inside the bay, save those doing sentry duty or manning crucial systems. Forsen was glad that the mercs had moved out their mechs from the bays. He never liked the idea of having ten-meter tall killing machines staring down at him. They reminded him too much of his mortality, too much of death, his death. He would feel and speak a lot easier without those metal monsters around.

Seeing the last few people enter the bay, the doctor, the former clansman, and the young and reckless mercenary mechwarrior, he decided it was time to tell them the reason for the gathering. The crew already knew what he was going to say, but the mercs were still in the dark, and they were getting impatient. Many of them were just about to finish setting up the camp and then go lostech hunting.

"Good evening, people. I'm sorry for calling you away from your duties, but I have an important announcement." Holding his breath for a while and showing a worried face, making it obvious to everybody, he then dropped the bombshell, "Jade Falcons have just jumped insystem," gasps could be heard from the audience, "captured most of our jumpships, and are heading for this rock."

Before he could continue, the mass of people had already burst into heated discussion and some of them were even walking towards the bay doors.

To get their attention again, he yelled, "_Everybody listen! There is no need for panic. We still have almost 8 regiments of mercs onplanet. That's enough to fight off even two clan galaxies!" He knew he was exaggerating, but he needed to calm their fears. "There's many of us, and if they want a fight, we'll gladly give them one."_

"Of course you'll say that," retorted a woman, "You won't be the one putting your neck on the line. We are. And were there any naval support  for the Falcons?"

"Umm, yes, there is, but..." He was cut off again by a gaggle of voices, all demanding that he transport them back to the Inner Sphere immediately. "We just do not have enough ships to get everyone off right now! I have only three ships able to jump, which means that 60 percent of the mercs on planet will be left behind. This is unacceptable! If we stay and fight, maybe we could bargain for the return of our jumpships if we won. The Jade Falcons are honourable..."

"NEG! The Falcons are anything but honourable!" Deserk suddenly yelled. "They fight when the odds are on their side, and whimper like preening parrots when they lose. I should know because my former clan fought them many a trial over the years. They will twist the facts to suit their purposes, because that is what Crusaders do! But I say that though we may not get our transport back, we _will teach them a lesson in being warriors! I will not run. I will rather stay and fight to the death. For many of you, this is a rare opportunity to make a name for yourselves! Think of the contracts you can pick up if you win, the boasts you can make to your lessers. Yes, many of you will die, but better a good and glorious death on the battlefield than to live in shame for the rest of your lives. I say we stand and fight!"_

With that, the entire bay erupted with cheers, jeers, and various profanities as the mercs tried to decide their next course of action., unconvinced by Deserk's impassioned speech.

"ENOUGH!" Forsen realized that Captain Jadine Sheik of the Wolf Dragoons had heard more than she wanted. "Our path is clear. We cannot just abandon more than half of our number on this planet. They will likely fall to the Falcons. But if we stay together, we will have a better chance. Anyone who really wants to go can do so, but are you prepared to be regarded as the ones who fled when the going got tough? Nobody will want to employ you again, and the Dragoons can make sure of it." Nobody missed the inherent threat in her last statement.

When there was no reply to that, Forsen took over. "Well, its decided then, for us at least. We stay and fight! The Falcons are about five days away from landing, so let us explore what we can first, as well as set up defenses. I'll spread the word, but if the Dragoons are staying, so would the rest. Probably."

The gathered mercs grudgingly murmured their consent to their course of action and left the mech bay to get their own preparations under way. Now instead of just preparing for just looking for lostech, they would have to start preparing to fight clan troops, a distressing thought for all but the most elite mercs.

As Frank left the bay for the Raider's area of the camp outside the dropship, he decided not to tell Captain Vansen of his discovery. It would be enough for him, as well as the rest of the camp to know that they are presently safe from the local microbes. He would just have to hope there was a working electron microscope in one of the research bases for him to do further study.

"Hey Frank! Wait up! Captain Vansen wants to talk to you!" Kily interrupted his thoughts with a quick shout as he ran up to Frank. "He's waiting in his tent. Let's go."

Following Kily to the Captain's tent, Frank quickly assessed his company's chance against a clan unit, and the numbers he came up with were not encouraging. Walking past the mechs stationed in the Raiders' part of the camp, he tried to gauge their strengths and weaknesses at the same time, remembering what he had seen while practicing with them in the simulators.

The recon/scout lance consisted of Lieutenant Jenny Ransom's upgraded _Jenner, and three other 3025 technology mechs. Kily's __Commando, Lee Fei Yang's __Spider and Pash Balaji's __Wasp. They would be slaughtered in a straight fight with a clan star, __any clan star. To Frank, their best chance of survival would be to commit only when the rest of the Raiders are already engaged with the enemy, drawing the bulk of their attention. With the entire lance attacking one target, they would actually stand a good chance of downing some enemy mechs. However, this tactic relied heavily on the other lances of the company._

Which brought Frank to their medium lance. Also consisting of only one mech with upgraded technology, the medium lance was actually quite dangerous. With an _Enforcer III, a __Hunchback, a __Centurion and a __Phoenix Hawk, the medium lance can deal with most opposing lances of the same weight class, or run away from heavier and tougher opponents. Even a clan unit would find them tough opponents. However, the lance leader was Lieutenant Jon Falks, a known drunkard and absolutely useless in a fight. Most of the time he relied on Captain Vansen for his orders and showed an utter lack of initiative. If it had been the Davion Guards, he would have been placed on kitchen patrol duty long ago._

Lieutenant Jenny also had the same problem, except that she is willing to work hard at her position and this made her problem a lot less noticeable. She was above all a steady and reliable leader, not prone to flashes of inspiration, but not utterly incompetent like Falks either.

Thankfully, the members of the medium lance were all dependable warriors. Deris Kaine in the _Hunchback was a natural close combat pilot, able to take on, and win over even opponents who outweigh her mech by thirty tons. Gerhard Kahn was a confident __Centurion gunner who was always willing to push forward for a victory, while Tim Fowler was a patient fighter who is patient enough to take his time in picking a good shot for his large laser in his __Phoenix Hawk._

Lastly, there was the company command lance, which had all the heavy and assault mechs, and provided most of the company's firepower. Captain John Vansen's _Stalker_, Liase Rossovich's _Battlemaster_, Qing Hong Liu's _Marauder_ and Marco Kluivert's _Grasshopper_ can put the fear of God into most Inner Sphere opponents. According to stories told to Frank by Kily, that was exactly what happened on many of the Raiders' contracts in the Chaos March. Most of their enemies could not compete with the Raiders, especially the command lance, for sheer power, and they actually often faced more danger from their own employers double-crossing them!

However, Clan mechs were a different proposition, with their higher speeds due to XL engine technology. The command lance had only one upgraded mech, the _Stalker_, which Frank had studied on extensively when he was training on Outreach, due to his close brush with one during the civil war. The command lance could doubtless still put up a good fight, and would be critical in any fight with clan troops.

Coming to the Captain Vansen's tent, they saw Jon Falks lounging just outside the tent in a drunken stupor, cradling a bottle of liquor in his arms. He stepped into their path, just as they were about to enter the tent.

"We are going to be dead! Nothing's going to stop those Falcons from thrashing us! If you're smart, enjoy life while you can! Why bother to fight?" Evidently, Jon did not rate their chances highly, which Frank privately agreed with. But showing such pessimism in the open was not helping matters any either.

Disgusted at the lieutenant's attitude, Frank just shoved him to the side and strode into the tent. It was obvious to him that something has to be done about Jon, and soon. At the moment, he was just dead weight to the rest of the Raiders. Unfortunately, only the captain had such authority.

The command tent was quite small, and occupied by a bed, a table, and a weapons rack with a few rifles of various models. There was a map of their landing zone area on the table, and there was a strong stench of sweat and fear, accumulated over what could only be several decades of hard campaigning on a dozen worlds.

Captain John Vansen was forty years old, slightly built, but tall, almost to the point of gauntness. He had been looking over the maps on the table as Frank and Kily entered. Despite what the Dragoons had said about their chances, or rather the lack of such, he was determined to formulate a plan where they would have the best hope of victory and survival. A great deal of his plans depended on the mercs being able to control the terrain. Therefore he planned to fight in the area around the suspected Star League site, where the forest cover was quite thick, and thus able to negate the clans' advantage in ranged weapons.

But he would have to scout out the area first. And if there truly was a Star League base there, maybe it would have some fixed defensive emplacements that could give the mercs an advantage. He also wanted to scour the base for any useful equipment, but he had heard and seen enough horror stories about people messing around with technology they did not understand to know that he should send in only qualified people.

And Frank was the closest to a scientist the mercs had. He would have to rely greatly on Frank to make sense of the stuff they might find. Nobody else, not even the engineers on the dropships, had received a sufficiently rigorous scientific education. With the Falcons only a few days away, they had scant time to prepare.

He got straight to the point. "Frank, we're heading out for the base tomorrow. The scout lances of both companies will be accompanying us. The rest of us will go on the AT(all terrain) jeeps. We should get there in at least an hour. I want you to come with us, just in case we need any scientific expertise. I also want you to bring any equipment you think might be useful. There might be some fixed defenses, and they might still be active, so I want you to hang at the rear should there be any hostiles."

"What sort of weaponry should we be packing?" Frank asked.

"The normal stuff. Slug and laser rifles, some blazers, and some light anti-armour rockets. Should be enough to take out almost anything. If there is something we can't handle, we leave it to the mechs. If necessary, they can tear apart the base. Too bad none of us have battle-armour. That would have been of great use, even in close quarters in the base. I'm telling you this because we cannot afford a mistake at this point, not with the Falcons coming in. We gonna need every edge we can get, and you are going to get it for us." He drove home the point by pounding a fist on the table.

Ian Dorlacen yawned as he surveyed the makeshift camp before him. He was supposed to be pleased by his scouts' reports of an abandoned building where the neutrino signature was, but the incoming news from Forsen Mandela had killed his mood.

He dreaded telling his people about the bad news, since he was the one who had brought them all the way from the Inner Sphere to this desolate periphery world in search of hidden treasure. He felt responsible for anything that might happen to them, and the fact that few merc units had managed to fight off the clans gave him a very pessimistic outlook on the coming campaign.

He felt even worse knowing that he had never fought the clans before, having spent his entire career in the hotbed of the Chaos March. Yes, there had been more than one offer for the Lancers to go for the clan border, but Ian had always reminded himself of the lists of dead and destroyed units on the Hiring Hall rolls to convince himself that it was not the best of career moves.

He tried to tell himself that it wasn't cowardice, but a good business decision. He had never expected to fight the clans, not so soon, not this unprepared, and it now looked like he should had gone for the clan border to try to get some of that clan salvage that units that managed to survive always had in abundance.

Still, even more surprising was that he had been nominated as the person to present a bid for all the mercs on Einstein, by virtue of his status as the commander of the largest merc unit, and the highest ranking officer. It had been the Dragoon Captain who had suggested it, and before he knew it, he had been selected. It also ensured that the Arch Lancers would be hit hard from the start, which he did not look forward to.

There was going to be a huge transmission fest in the night as the various units hashed out a plan for the coming battle. Ian, having participated in multi-merc unit engagements before, was already dreading the conference.

He spun his _Awesome _around slowly, looking at the approaching mechs of his scout lance as they marched up.

"Scout lance reporting sir!" Ian imagined the prim and proper Lieutenant Hong Guan De snapping to attention within his _Raven_'s cockpit, if that had been possible. "No bogeys anywhere near here, sir!"

"Good work," Ian said over his transmitter. "Berth your mechs. I have an announcement to make."

God knew what his troops would think of him once he told them the Jade Falcons were on the way…


	8. Black Shock

_Dropship _Nile_, Drop Zone Alpha,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery,___

_3rd March 3068_

The mercs based off the _Nile_ spent an exhausting night preparing their equipment for the lostech hunt the next day. The upshot was, they were heartened by the news that the rest of the mercs on planet had also decided to fight the Falcons for their rides home. A major of a merc battalion had already been tentatively chosen as their representative to speak with the Falcon commander, as he was the highest ranked officer they had.

The overall plan, hammered out in the night, called for the Falcons to commit their forces all over the planet in dozens of trials at once, so that the mercs could avoid getting smashed one piece at a time by the clanners. The side that survived to the end would obviously be the victor. If the Falcons won, there would not be anything for them other than access to the planet free and clear. If the mercs won, they would get the jumpships back, as well as undisputed possession of the planet. Of course, there was every possibility the Falcons would simply disregard their terms and kick their asses, but it all rested on the good Major's shoulders to ensure that they didn't.

The one thing that was most important to all the mercs now was to examine all the possible star league sites. Although the sites had been picked out due to fusion reactor readings, the sites themselves, even with buildings, might not be star league bases. The neutrino detectors had been set to a high sensitivity that even locations where there was previous fusion activity could be detected. The locations could be just mech wreckage, or simply areas where a fusion engine was present in the past six hundred years. It was important, therefore, that they started searching for the bases immediately.

So, on the following morning after the bad news of encroaching Falcons, the mercs of the dropship _Nile_ set off for their site on the breaking of dawn. The forest around them was quiet and peaceful, as the nocturnal creatures active during the night had retreated back to their lairs upon the coming of light, and the rest of the native fauna had not yet shaken off the effects of sleep. Moist dew glistened on the leaves of the trees and bushes, looking much like precious jewels as they reflected the dawning sunlight.

Almost the entire dropship complement of mercenaries was going on the search. Two lances of mechs were left behind as defense, just in case. Most of the crew was also left behind, so that there would be people to man the awesome firepower of the dropship should there be any attack. Many of them were sorely disappointed, but they knew their duty came first.

The two recon lances of both the Dragoons and the Raiders accompanyied the rest of the mercs, who traveled in jeeps, loaded down with every conceivable piece of combat equipment, as well as some non-combat ones. LAWs, RPGs, recoilless rifles, infantry gauss cannons, blazer rifles, needler guns, sniper laser rifles, pocket White Dwarf pistols, and countless other weapons were packed by the anxious mercs.

Frank Meronac personally thought they were being a bit too much. But that didn't stop him from carrying a modified double barreled shotgun with an attached grenade launcher. After all, it never hurt to be too prepared.

He glanced around his surroundings as the trees sped by, as the jeep he was on rolled over the bumpy dirt and grass on its way to the site. The sky was gradually getting brighter, and the air was almost imperceptibly heating up. About a hundred meters to the left of the jeep, a Dragoon _Garm_ easily kept pace with the jeep, eating up the ground with easy strides. There were about fifteen other jeeps with mechwarriors, tankers and support personnel, all armed to the teeth, and eager for some treasure hunting. It felt like those safaris that he had always read about in the books.

Kily Gonzalez was in his _Commando_, along with the Raider's _Spider, _scouting ahead of the column of jeeps for hidden enemies. The rest of the recon lances' mechs were spread out throughout the column, providing heavy support in case of attack. Of course, nobody was expecting one.

As they neared the base site, the forest slowly came together on both sides, causing the path the jeeps were traveling on to narrow, and finally become sparse foliage, and light forest. This forced the mechs to maneuver more carefully to avoid unnecessary damage from collisions. The thickening forest also hindered the movement of all vehicles.

_Beneath the ground, hidden sensors picked up approaching objects. The sensors immediately sent a signal to the machine core, for awakening of the central processor. Signals were also sent out to others of its kind, waking them up from a long sleep interrupted only rarely by a foolish animal._

After some jarring tree hugging actions by the recon mechs, Captains Vansen and Sheik finally decided to get the mechs to form a one kilometer diameter perimeter around the site. The rest of the mercs continued on in the jeeps until the jeeps were unable to continue, at which point the mercs would simply go on foot.

They soon found themselves less than 800 metres from the site. Their best estimates indicated that they would have to abandon the jeeps in about three hundred more meters. That would leave them with only five hundred more meters to cover.

As the mercs squeezed their vehicles through the forest, Deserk was suddenly seized by a terrible sense of foreboding. There was something up ahead, and it seemed to be dangerous. He unslung his blazer rifle and held it to a ready position, simultaneously checking its readiness. He suggested to his fellow passengers to do the same. They drove on warily.

He was sure something terrible was about to happen. With the imminent arrival of the Jade Falcons, one part of his dream had been fulfilled. He had a hunch that the next few moments might reveal more of his vision.

_The contacts were coming ever closer to the hidden. Primitive combustion engines could be detected. However, advanced power sources were also present. The central processor passed on new commands to its limbs, preparing them for action. Per its very last orders, all disturbances shall be removed. Similarly, all around the site, other identical devices were spurred into alertness at the presence of intruders._

Indeed, after three hundred meters, the mercs were forced to proceed on foot. After spending some time organizing themselves and unloading their equipment, they advanced on foot, their weapons ready at their sides. The closely packed trees forced them to move cautiously. Soon, they came across an interesting sight.

Scattered on the ground were the skeletons of many native creatures. Some were decaying, pieces of yellowed bone flaking off. Some were still quite new, and had even some remnants of flesh on them.

Frank was really having a bad feeling by the time he got to the line of bones. Somehow, by unspoken consent, the mercs had halted just before the rows of skeletons. Evidently, there was someone or something that wanted to keep people out. Looking around him, he now felt glad they had brought out the heavy weaponry.

The good news for the mercs was that they could now see signs of a structure in the distance. It could only be what they were after, an abandoned Star League base. Nobody, however, wanted to take that first step past the line of bone.

"Well, what's wrong with all of you!" Jon Falks suddenly yelled, sober for once. "It's just a line of dead critters, nothing to worry about. Let's go!" With that, he stepped over the line, his submachine gun at the ready for any enemies.

All of a sudden, he was engulfed by a horde of small black spider-like machines, clinging to his body like crabs. All the mercs gaped, disbelieving at the sheer speed of the machines, which had appeared from nowhere. Jon screamed as his flesh was torn away in seconds, the scream stopping moments later when his throat was ripped out as well. There was a whole mass of more machines all waiting on the ground behind the line, between the mercs and their destination.

Captain Sheik managed to regain control of her body first, and yelled, "Everybody! Fire at will!"

Nobody needed any instructions as to what to shoot at. Raising their motley assortment of guns, the mercs unleashed their personal brand of hellfire at the black machines. The majority was aimed at the ones still clustered on Jon's body, or what was left of it.

Energy and kinetic bolts slammed into the machines, smashing apart thin armour plates and tearing into the vulnerable inner components. Gauss rounds punched holes through the machines, the vicious speed and velocity of the rounds attesting to the effectiveness of gauss technology even when scaled down to the level of personal sidearms. Even the relatively weak penetration power of submachine guns was having an effect, the rapid stream of bullets seeking out weak spots on the machines to exploit.

The black machines did not just remain at their positions for the mercs to take potshots at them. They charged at the mercs as an entire black wave of death, with only one objective.

Eliminate the intruders.

The air literally came alive with the roar of battle as the two forces clashed in a deadly close range melee in the heavy woods. Laser beams streaked through the air. Grenades exploded in fiery gouts of flame as they scattered the machines. Mercs screamed with pain as they died with their innards outside their bodies as the machines tore out their intestines, lungs, brains and other vital organs.

Frank was fighting desperately for his life with two other mercs, blasting away with the shotgun without aiming. Loaded with sabot rounds, the heavy slugs fired by the shotgun were able to inflict plenty of damage. They also had the added benefit of pushing back the machines behind as those hit were flung back. Saving his grenades for massed groups of machines, he was still able to stay clear of the enemies. Others were not so lucky, and were pulled down like mechs swarmed with elementals.

Frank scrambled back desperately as he sensed the growing panic in the mercs, and also in himself. This wasn't part of the plan!

It was clear who had the upper hand as the mercs fought a fighting retreat back to their jeeps, where they hoped to form a defensive line not possible in the dense forest. The jeeps also held more weapons that they could use to try to push back the strange machines. There were simply too many enemies for the mercs to destroy with what they had.

"What the hell are these things?" Deserk grunted as he came up beside Frank, blazer rifle sputtering bursts of laser darts at the black machines.

"I think they might be a base defense mechanism devised by the League, sorta like those _Casper_ drone warships they used last time! Has anyone called in the mechs for this one? I don't think we can hold out much longer! I'm running out of ammo!" Frank yelled back.

"Captain Sheik has already got on the horn to the mechs! They should be here any moment now. We just have to hold on!" With that, he fired again as Frank turned and ran for a few meters to a tree while reloading, then Frank turned round, took cover beside the tree and gave Deserk a chance to pull back as well as he fired, in a leapfrog retreat.

After a few minutes, the mercs had finally managed to reach their jeeps, where they grimly grabbed the last few bits of ammunition off the jeeps and prepared for a last stand.

Kily was bored out of his mind, as he patrolled around the perimeter in his _Commando_. The commanders did not want any of the mechs to be damaged by moving around in the heavy woods, which is why the recon mechs were ordered to just maintain a perimeter.

His comm suddenly came to life, "All mechs! This is Wolf One! We need assistance ASAP! Just bash through the woods to our position, and be ready to fire!" Sounds of intense gunfire could be heard in the background. Kily even heard some screams, which caused a momentary chill up his spine.

"Everybody! Let's move!" Lieutenant Jenny ordered. She was not one to hesitate.

The mechs quickly swung into action, this time using their weapons to clear paths through the forest or just using their mass to bash through. All other concerns were now secondary to the task of rescue. Kily hoped they would get to their beleaguered comrades in time, as he blazed away with his laser and SRMs.

_We are going to die._ Frank kept thinking as he launched his last grenade from his shotgun. Although losses so far had been pretty light, the mercs are almost down to their last few rounds. And the machines kept on coming. He could not believe the sheer numbers facing them. _They must have blanketed the entire forest!_

"I'm out of ammo! I'm getting outta here!" One merc yelled as he threw down his weapon and dashed back to the direction of their dropship. All along the line of defense, mercs were throwing down their guns and making a run for safety.

"Damn it! Get back here!" Deserk roared, as the machines plunged through the holes vacated by the fleeing soldiers and chased after them. Their amazing speed allowed them to catch up in just a few moments, and the running mercs were killed after a short struggle.

It was almost the end for them. Having expended their last rounds on pushing the machines as far back as possible, they were now simply waiting for the closest wave of machines to bring them death.

_Goodbye life, short as it was, it was great._ Frank fired his last round at a drone, and then closed his eyes as he waited to die.

A few seconds passed, and he suddenly heard a massive explosion. This prompted him to open one eye, then both eyes. He staggered with relief at the sight that greeted him.

The mechs had arrived.

Despite the machines' sheer numbers, they were no match for the mechs' heavy weapons. SRMs blasted them into pieces with explosive shockwaves, while lasers tore huge gaps through the massed ranks. A _Garm_'s LB-X autocannon unleashed a salvo of pellets, smashing and scattering aside enemies. The black machines could not even get close.

It was over in five minutes. Finally, silence had once again descended on the forest.

"Whew, we were almost goners there." Frank was commenting to a battered Deserk as he tried to staunch the bleeding on a leg. One of the machines they are now calling _Spidercrabs_ had managed to tear a chunk of flesh off Deserk's leg.

"Aff, I would hate to think of what might be coming next. Heh, even the Falcons might be shocked." Deserk was in a surprisingly good mood despite his injury. Frank figured he was still in a bit of shock from the blood loss.

The surviving mercs were all gathered in a clearing just outside the structure, tending to their wounded. Mechs stood around protectively, as if daring any more _Spidercrabs_ in the area to attack.

Considering the difficulty they just had in getting through the forest, everybody was a bit leery of entering the structure for fear of what could be inside. Several jeeps had been sent back to the dropship for more weapons and ammunition, which would be needed when entering the structure.

Serious consideration was being given to having the mechs just tear apart the flimsy structure. The drawback to this method was that valuable lostech could be damaged. Furthermore, preliminary scans had shown that the installation actually extended underground, and the structure they had gathered around was only a ground entrance.

The structure itself did not look too good. There were scorch marks from laser blasts all over the walls, and portions had been holed by what could only be autocannon rounds.

Some of the holes were even big enough for people to enter. It was obvious that any more damage might collapse the entire structure, and thus the entrance, which would be the last thing anybody wanted.

In the end, the plan called for several groups of mercs to penetrate the structure from several points. Any contact with hostiles was to be avoided, and the group under attack to pull back out immediately. The hostiles would hopefully pursue the mercs back to the forest where the mechs could destroy them.

Again, the plan was full of _Atlas_-sized holes, much like the entrance itself, but they were plain out of options at this point. All the remaining combat-capable mercs were assigned to base entry, while those wounded were told to stay put at the clearing, along with the mechs.

Frank was assigned to a team consisting of Liase Rossovich, two Dragoon mercs, one Raider tech and three tankers. The Raiders had been hard hit in the battle, losing two mechwarriors, Jon Falks and Marco Kluivert. The Dragoons had also lost two warriors, and Deserk had been just moments away from joining them. The tankers had lost five of their warriors. That was losses to the warriors alone. Frank did not even want to think about the support personnel losses, as well as the dropship crew. Dealing with the wounded and the dying had brought back a lot of bad memories.

Deserk, as one of the wounded, was left at the perimeter. A total of five teams would be going in, equipped with as much close range firepower as they could muster. They also brought along some trip mines and timer bombs, in case they needed to cover their retreat from the base.

Forsen Mandela was also one of those staying put. Although he had not been wounded, he had been seriously stunned by the sheer viciousness of the battle, as well as the _Spidercrabs_. He had expected an abandoned base, not one defended by a bunch of killer drones! With the losses sustained by the mercs, their chances of fighting off the Falcons were even lower.

Captain Jadine Sheik had gotten off a message about their encounter to the dropship, to be relayed to the other mercs on planet. Hopefully, nobody would be surprised like the mercs off the _Nile_.

With survival foremost in their minds, the mercs cautiously entered the base. Yes, they still wanted to seek out the treasures within, but they were more than aware of the painful price they might have to pay.


	9. Fumbling in the Dark

_Star League Base Beta 25,_

_Drop Zone Alpha,___

_Einstein, Deep Periphery,_

_3rd March 3068_

The mercs' first impression of the structure's interior was a dim, dank building punctured by beams of light in some places where sunlight streamed in through holes in the walls. It was once obviously a well maintained, high-technology entry station, as could be evidenced by the cracked electronics on the walls and the broken cameras and shattered auto-turrets scattered all over the place. There were quite a few human bones left behind, since the _Spidercrabs_ kept out any animals that might have taken them.

The place was quite large, almost the size of half a football field. There was a main reception lobby, a guardroom, and several general-purpose rooms with dusty couches and dusty chairs. The furniture was all broken or damaged in some way. Obviously, there had been some vicious fighting going on. Frank thought, _who was fighting what?_

The ragtag groups of mercenaries slowly explored their immediate surroundings, being sure to aim at any movement that did not belong to their team. Sure enough, there were anxious moments when one group bumped into another. Things often straightened out quickly, and they went on their way.

It didn't take them long to find two staircases leading down, presumably to where the labs are. A lift was found as well, but without a power source to operate it, it was unusable. The mercs gathered in the reception lobby to discuss their options.

"Okay, we have three ways of getting to the next level down, wherever that is." Captain Jadine Sheik was, not surprisingly, the first to speak out and take charge of the situation. "I think the base defenses have all been destroyed, but we can't afford to make that assumption. There could still be more _Spidercrabs_ waiting for us down there, as well as who knows what else they had been cooking in their labs."

Most of the mercs had agreed that the killer machine drones were a result of an experiment gone wrong. After examining the remains of the drones, however, Frank, as well as the techs all discovered that the components were far too advanced for the Inner Sphere's present level of miniaturization. Not to say that the Star League could not have done it, but they just could not believe that the Star League had this sort of technology available but did not employ it in the war against Amaris.

"But what are our objectives here?" Frank asked. "I mean, looking for artifacts and lostech is fine, but shouldn't we look for a way to activate the base power so that we don't have to scurry around with our lights? It's also much easier to see what's going around in case we get into a fight. I think the computers may have valuable technical data that we can sell, so that's another reason for finding the power switch, since they need electricity to run."

"Good idea, but how are we going to find the power switch, circuit or whatsoever? I dunno why, but maps seem to be in short supply here. I guess that paper maps have a habit of being rotted away in three hundred years," a tanker commented.

Captain Sheik replied, "I guess we'll know when we come across it, won't we? Just keep your eyes open, and don't mess around with stuff if you don't understand them. If you find anything that looks like a power switch, you just radio the rest of us so that we can get someone who deals with fusion engines to you that is, if you don't have one."

In the end, it was decided that a group would use the lift cables to rappel down. Assuming that any defenses in the lift shaft had been deactivated, destroyed or expended, it should be a simple matter to get to the next level.

For the staircases, two teams had also been assigned to take each staircase. They would advance slowly, watching out for any remaining automated defenses, as well as more _Spidercrabs_. The remaining two groups would remain at the reception lobby, to reinforce the other groups should they encounter opposition or cover their retreat if necessary.

The primary objective of all the teams would be to restore power to the base, either by activating the base fusion reactor, or the auxiliary diesel generator, provided that the fuel had not completely evaporated in the past three hundred years. Once this had been done, they would discuss over radio their next move.

Frank's team had been assigned to one of the staircases. Loaded down with equipment, it was an exhausting trek down the endless flight of stairs. After about a hundred flights without an exit, they were so tired and hungry that they decided to have a quick meal and a short nap before continuing. Judging by the transmissions from the other teams, they were not doing much better either. The other staircase team had also stopped for a breather, while the lift team had been held up by the lift blocking the way. They were currently cutting their way through, and resting at the same time. Treasure hunting, it seemed, was a tiring task.

_At least we don't have to fight dragons_, Frank thought as he bit off a portion of his ration bar.

But the _Spidercrabs _had been bad enough, and he really hated to think of what else might be lying in wait for them at the next level.

The other members of his group were either sprawled out on the stairs taking a quick nap, or wolfing down their food. Everyone was drenched in sweat, and panting heavily. They were in no condition for a fight, and Frank worried about how they were going to get back up later if anything went wrong.

After about an hour, they got on their way again. All of them prayed that they would reach the base level soon. The joke was soon running around that if the _Spidercrabs_ did not get them, the stairs will!

Thankfully, they finally reached an exit door after another thirty flights. By this time, their batteries were already at less than half power, making the resumption of power throughout the base an absolute priority. Nobody wanted to try to go back up in total darkness, up a hundred and thirty flights of stairs!

The door was locked, and it took a bit of skill with a wire by the team's technician to open it. Grasping their weapons tightly, the mercs slowly opened the door.

It was pitch black past the door, and a heavy musk smell was everywhere. The mercs inched their way past the door, being careful to illuminate the immediate area around the door to check for dangers.

Thankfully, there was none. They saw a typical office workplace, but little else. Moving past the door, the mercs tried to decide how to go about restoring power.

"There must be some self powered console that can tell us what we need to know. Bases usually have a few redundant systems that provide backup or information in case of accidents or mishaps." The Raider tech, Denilson, was proving to be an indispensable source of information.

Frank called out, "Alright, everybody, fan out and start looking for anything that's a map, a manual or a console. I highly doubt we'll find the fusion engine easily, so we'll just do this step by step."

The area they were in was obviously a lab, with numerous desks piled with mounds of rotted pulp. Smashed computer screens were also everywhere, as well as scattered bones all over the place, testifying to the violence that had been visited upon the underground base. Weapons were also found, mostly around the bones. The mercs picked up some of these weapons. The weapons may be lostech, and valuable. There was not even rust on the weapons, which Frank found a bit strange.__

The empty shells of _Spidercrabs_ were also all over the place, reminding the mercs of possible danger, which suited Frank just fine. He had more than enough memories of the vicious machines to last a lifetime.

Clearing the desks of their contents, the mercs searched for the information they needed. Drawers, shelves, and cabinets were opened, their insides examined.

Meanwhile, Frank and Denilson decided to take another tack. Finding an undamaged computer station, they proceeded to try to restore power to it using their own batteries. Isolating it from the rest of the system, to prevent power leakage, they had managed to boot up the system on that one station. Denilson shifted through the files for the information they needed. Maybe they could find some reference to the power supply.

"Hey hurry up, I don't think the batteries are going to last much longer!" An anxious Frank called out to his teammate.

"Hmmm, there's a list of base personnel here. I'll check out the names of the fusion engineers. Ah hah! Here are two names. Lila Nedved and Edward Caruthers. If anything bout the reactors are to be found, it must be in their workstations!"

"Let's go look for their stations then." Frank agreed, disconnecting the batteries from the computer.

"Hey, people!" Frank shouted to his team. "Look for the computers of these two people! Lila Nedved, and Edward Caruthers! They're the engineers in charge of the fusion engines. They should have info on how to start them up in their computer files!"

"I've already come across a desk with the name Edward Caruthers on an engraved metal plate! Come on, it's over here!" A dragoon warrior called Kety replied.

As the team gathered around the desk, Frank and Denilson hooked up their batteries to the computer, which was thankfully intact, and proceeded to access the information within.

Only to come up against several layers of password protected security and firewalls.

"Damn! This is not going to be easy! I'm afraid I'm not very good at this. I can't break through! Anyone here good at computers?" Denilson asked.

The mercs looked at one another. Obviously nobody has been trained to tackle computer security, since nobody replied.

Luckily for them, Kety knew someone who was.

"There's a Dragoon tech in Captain Sheik's team who knows how to break computer systems. She was the one who played all those prank jokes when we were in space. Her name's Pamela. Let's get her over here so that we can get the info we need," he said.

Somebody yelled out, "But how are they going to get here? Heck, we even have difficulty finding our way back to the stairway!"

At that, there was suddenly an explosion from a corner of the room. Two doors were flung away as the mercs dove to the ground.

Holding their weapons at the ready, the mercs anxiously waited to see the culprits.

As images emerged from the smoke and resolved themselves into human shapes, Frank's team belatedly realized that the doors that had been blown apart were the lift doors.

The team rappelling down the lift shaft had arrived.

And quite conveniently too, as Pamela was with them. It took Frank's team only moments to explain the situation to the newly arrived members of Captain Sheik's group. Pamela did not waste any time in cracking the security.

"Wow, the security here is really tough. It's going to take a while, and more batteries. I can do it. You guys will just have to wait." Pamela was getting excited at the challenge of breaking into a star league system.

"Hey, don't you feel uncomfortable here? It's getting a bit stifling." A merc commented as they waited for the information.

"That's due to the lack of ventilation. The air vents and fans are all not working, so the stale air stays down here and doesn't get flushed out. Another reason for us to restore the power." Frank replied. "We'll suffocate in here if we don't get the fans running soon."

After a nerve wracking thirty minutes, in which their battery supply run dangerously low, Pamela finally managed to get the information they needed. A detailed map of the facility was also found, which they hastily hand copied onto some spare paper Frank carried.

With the information now in their possession, the mercs quickly followed the instructions stated to activate the fusion reactors, splitting up to speed up the process.

The cooling pumps were activated first using a backup generator. Then the magnetic coils were set to control the fusion process.

After that, it was a simple matter of pressing a switch in the main power control room to activate the fusion engine, which was left to Frank's group.

As Frank stepped over a destroyed turret, and past the broken security doors leading to the station, he could see that fierce fighting had occurred here. As his group entered the station itself proper, he could recognize the signs of a final stand by the base defenders against their enemies. A skeleton lay near the shutdown switch. Evidently, the base personnel shut down the engine and its relevant subsystems just before they died.

_They must not have wanted the base and its secrets to be revealed_, Frank reasoned. _But if that was so, why didn't they just blow the whole place up by letting the reactor go critical?_

Flicking open the button cover, Frank uttered a small prayer before pressing the power button firmly with his finger.

The lights came on immediately, and the whirl of fans starting up could be heard, as the base came to life after a hiatus of three hundred years.

Thankfully, none of the base defenses gave the mercs any trouble, since the base attackers had apparently destroyed all of them.

The mercs wasted no time in pulling out every drawer from the desks, hunting for advanced technology. They avoided the labs like the plague, fearing what they might find.

Frank took a different tack, as usual, entering the laboratories instead to look for lostech. He also had a hunch that things are not as they seemed on this world.

Meanwhile, the lift, operational but with holes in its floor and the ceiling, was patched up by welding some metal plates onto the affected areas. It was then sent up to the entrance floor to fetch the other two teams, and the other mercs, down to the basement labs.

After sauntering through the labs, looking at the equipment, Frank had finally decided to sit down at a computer terminal in the lab and see what exactly the Star League researchers had been doing. The security protocols throughout the base had just been disabled by Pamela, so accessing the data was no trouble at all for Frank.

He couldn't believe his eyes when he ran through the information databse.

"Where's Frank?" Captain Vansen asked when he stepped off the lift.

Kety had a huge grin on his face as he said, "He strolled off into the labs, sir. The boys have found some great equipment lying around. We're going to be stinking rich when we get back to the Inner Sphere!"

"If we get back." Frank suddenly butted in, as he walked up to his commanding officer. "And for your information, the lightning gun is not lostech. It's technology _discovered_ by the star league. And what we're here for is actually this new technology, not these star league era weapons. Captain, can I talk to you and Captain Sheik in private? It's very important."

Looking carefully at Frank, John Vansen noticed that Frank was wearing a shocked look, as if he had just seen a ghost. He did not miss the emphasis Frank placed on the word 'discover' either.

"Sure. Let's get Jadine, and then you'll tell us what's so important."

Ten minutes later, they were in a small office that once belonged to the commander of the base. The mercs had already scoured the office for all and any lostech technology, and had come away with several antiques. There remained an engraving on the wall, with the words "On the shoulder of giants".

_Words once uttered by Issac Newton. Fitting words for this base._ Frank thought as he looked at the engraving.

"Alright, what are you going to tell us that is so secretive that you have to do this in private?" Jadine asked.

It took Frank a while to answer the question, as he gathered his thoughts. "When we were first told about this place, it was described as an abandoned star league installation out in the deep periphery. And with advanced technology research going on. We were shown weapons that we had never seen before, that seemed impossible to make with our present level of technology."

"So we came here, to this world, to seek out these technologies and weapons, to make a fortune by selling them to the highest bidder. But we never stopped to ask, why here? On this world, not some other desolate rock where there's no atmosphere, harsh weather, or some such? Such a garden paradise, which I'm sure you'll agree, will attract anybody to set foot on it, which will put the bases at risk of discovery. Also, why so many bases, all over the planet?"

Reports had just come in to the mercs off the _Nile_, that at least five other groups had encountered _Spidercrabs_, and discovering similar bases after beating the drones off.

"Wouldn't it be better simply to put the bases all in one place, where it's easier to defend and coordinate research? There were so many things we never bothered to think about, that we took them for granted and made assumptions. When we landed, you know I took samples of the local air and soil. I did tell you that there weren't any dangerous infectious agents here, but there's also something I've found which I did not tell you at the time because I wasn't sure what they were."

"What I found were tiny particles that were neither virus nor bacteria. I didn't know what to make of them at the time so I did not mention it. But apparently the scientists here knew what they were. What I found were _nanomachines_. Imagine tiny machines operating on a cellular, or even molecular level, and you get the idea. These machines were fixing the nutrients in the soil, leeching harmful chemicals and breaking them down, and killing any organism that seemed to be harmful to people. This paradise was a direct result of the nanomachines engineering the environment. Also, when I went through the medical reports, not a single person got sick due to an infectious agent."

"So you're telling us that everything we see on this world was created by the Star League?" Captain Vansen asked, incredulous.

"Nope. I didn't say that." Frank shook his head. "The Star League did not create the nanomachines, though the scientists found a way to control them after they were discovered very early on. They didn't invent the technology behind the lightning gun either. Someone else got the idea first, and they just copied it."

"Then where did the technology come from? The Rim Worlds Republic?"

"Oh, all the technology came from this world alright, though not in the way you would expect. This wasn't just a research station. It was an _archeological_ base as well."

At their uncomprehending looks, Frank finally threw down his bombshell.

"They were uncovering _alien_, as in non-human, artifacts on this world."


	10. Hidden History

_Star League Base Beta 25,_

_Drop Zone Alpha,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery,_

_3rd March 3068_

"What!"

"You have to be joking!"

The two officers could not believe what they just heard. Aliens! And the Star League knew about it! It was simply impossible.

Frank was adamant on this point, though. The evidence, especially the data in the files that stated outright that extraterrestrial presence had been found on Einstein, was irrefutable.

He insisted, "Look, it all makes sense. All the advances made by the Star League, when all the other Successor States couldn't. Their scientists were not more intelligent. They just had a better idea of where to go or what to do. It's all inside the files. HPG technology, advanced myomer implantation, lithium fusion batteries. These were all results of the research and recovery of artifacts on this world!"

"Then how did they find this planet in the first place?" Jadine asked skeptically.

Frank held up his hands. "Let's go to one of the lab computers. I'll show you the whole story, or as much of the whole story as we know it."

At the labs, the merc commanders got hold of the true history of the Star League's work on the planet.

The Star League was already on the lookout for possible sites for hidden research bases even before they had finished the subjugation of the Periphery states. An expedition stumbled across Einstein quite by accident when they landed to replenish their water supplies. Someone literally tripped over a strange combat machine half buried in the dirt. Its technology was quantum leaps beyond what the Star League had.

Amazed at their find, the expedition quickly set up a camp to investigate. They managed to unearth large quantities of alien technology. Unwilling to take the risk of discovery of this potential goldmine by the other successor states, the First Lord ordered all research to be carried out on the planet itself, which they dubbed Area 51, after an ancient earth myth of hidden bases in the middle of nowhere.

To reduce the possibility of discovery by the other powers due to supply problems, Area 51 was required to be as self sufficient as possible, not a difficult task after the nanomachines were discovered.

As the alien material was all over the planet, and some of it was pretty fragile, several bases had to be set up to facilitate excavation and handling. Thankfully, deep mining excavation techniques were not required. The deepest the teams ever got was fifty meters.

By carbon dating, it was found that the machines date back about fifty thousand to a hundred thousand years ago, back when man was still playing with fire and stone tools. Hints were also found of a huge conflict on the planet, because of the weapons found at all sites. It seemed that there were two sides, and the side that won did not lay claim to the planet, apparently abandoning it. They also did not bother to clean up after themselves, a sign that they did not bother much about material losses.

Many of the machines found had advanced algorithms built into them that enabled them to function without a sentient pilot. Taking these algorithms, the Star League used them for the _Casper_ drone warships for the defense of Terran Hegemony worlds.

Advanced superconductor formulae, hyper-pulse generator technology, all were results of the research done on this one world. Nobody ever suspected that the Star League had been getting its technology not from its own scientists, but from the remnants of a long ago alien civilization. A campaign of misinformation and lies was more than sufficient to make the member states believe that it was all the Star League's own efforts that led to the breakthroughs.

The linguists and mathematicians also played important roles in deciphering the technology. Although not much progress was made into the specifics, what they did uncover suggested that there was actually more than one alien race, in fact several, all fighting on one side, the one that lost. Not much was found about the other side.

Most importantly, they discovered that there could be a possible intact alien base somewhere on the world. There were many hints of a 'sanctuary' for the various alien races on Area 51, but its location was hidden under many layers of advanced ciphers that took decades to decode.

After the location was found, deep inside a mountain, every attempt was made to try to enter it. Despite their best efforts, every attempt failed. It seemed that the material protecting the base was not only made of impervious metal alloys, but reinforced with a subtle energy shield as well that could resist even nuclear strikes.

So another way to enter the base was tried. The reports in the computers were not complete by the time the mercs got to this section. There were huge sections missing from the records, including important details like the location of the alien base and how the door opening process works, which were erased from the files. Even the Norton 3060 Unerase program failed to retrieve the information. Whoever did it probably did not want the information to fall into the wrong hands.

But that also raised many crucial questions that the mercs were unable to find answers to. There was no mention of machines like the _Spidercrabs_ described in the excavation files, nor in the files relating to the various weapons or AI labs. The only mention of them was when the base was attacked during its final days, where holovid records showed them overwhelming the base defenders. Conveniently, that was also about the time Terra fell to Stefan Amaris. Obviously, he did not know about it, or he would have exploited the technology, for which the rest of humanity should be grateful.

The mercs wondered, so where did the _Spidercrabs_ come from? The files reported some camera videos showed them dropping from the sky, but nothing else. The cameras were destroyed soon after. Who sent them? Was it the Rim Worlds Republic? Or someone else? It could not have been the successor states. They were too busy with their own matters, and did not know of Area 51's existence in the first place.

About the alien base, what the mercs did find out was that an attempt with the new method was tried, but it seemed the base was attacked immediately afterwards. No further communications with the entry team was had after they entered, and it was entirely possible that they had perished inside the alien structure. The_ Spidercrabs_ definitely did not come from the alien base, as cameras placed outside the doorway did not show them swarming out, according to the records.

One piece of good news for the mercs was that one of the pieces of equipment for entry into the alien base was still in the base. It could be accessed through a locked vault.

Learning of its location, Frank did not waste any time in getting to it. The vault was already opened by a bunch of curious mercs, who now wondered at the contraption before them.

The piece of equipment in question was the size of a car, with wires and electronics all over it. There were no obvious signs of how to it works, nor were there any instructions.

After much examination by the techs, they finally figured out how to safely dissemble the whole thing into smaller parts that could be transported to the surface, which they promptly did, so that it could be safely placed in the _Nile_.

All the equipment the mercs could find also received the same treatment. They decided to split the booty later, when there is time. Examination of the devices, both Star League and alien, would also have to wait. Nobody wanted to fiddle around with some strange gadget that might blow up literally in his or her face!

All the data in the computer files were also copied onto data cores, where they would also be transferred over to the dropship to be uploaded into the ship's files. The files would be purged from the base's systems, to deny the Falcons easy access. In fact, they had wanted to blow the whole place up completely, but Frank and a vocal minority of the mercs had opposed it. They might have a use for the bases later.

All this work took the better of two days to complete, during which the mercs got in touch with one another concerning their various discoveries. The information concerning the source of the advanced technology was released only to those with at least the rank of captain, all dropship commanders, as well as certain selected personnel.

Needless to say, they were all shocked by the extent of the deception the Star League had perpetuated against humanity throughout its entire existence. It had wanted to keep the best technology for itself, and threw scraps to the other houses.

But the Star League still fell in the end, rotted from within so much that nothing in the universe could have prevented the eventual fall. The technology on Area 51, lost for so many generations, denied to the Inner Sphere, might now have a chance to be released to the rest of humanity, even if the houses would have to pay the mercs generously for it.

And there was the trifling matter of the hidden alien base, as well as the much more pressing one of the impending Jade Falcon assault.

The pieces of equipment that was once used to open up the alien base were all identified from the records at the various bases and gathered up by the mercs into their dropships. Interestingly enough, there were six devices at the various bases, all seemingly identical. Meanwhile, trusted techs and engineers continued to try to ferret out the location of the alien base, the location not being found in any of the bases, as well as the means to operate the devices.

But there was still something that bothered Frank very much concerning the _Spidercrabs_.

_Dropship _Nile_, Drop Zone Alpha,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery,_

_5th March 3068_

"Deserk, can I talk to you for a while?" Frank had managed to get hold of Deserk, who had been driving a jeep shuttling stuff from the base to the dropship.

"Sure. What is the matter?" Despite his leg wound, he had insisted on helping out. Since they were pretty short on manpower at the moment, or at least until some of the more badly wounded mercs got better, they had to put everyone to work.

"How's the leg? I can give you some painkillers to dull the pain, if you wish."

"Neg, I do not require the painkillers. It still hurts a bit, but pain is a good sign that one's still alive, right?" He laughed. "But that is not what you came to talk to me about, quiaff?" His tone turned serious.

"Yeah, that's right. I came to talk to you about the dreams you had."

"The ones in which everybody got killed?"

"Yup. I kinda felt the _Spidercrabs_ were very similar to the machines you had described. Just as ruthless, too. And the tech was very similar to the stuff the Star League found, at least the stuff of one of the alien factions." Deserk was one of those who knew the truth.

"Well, that certainly bodes ill for our expedition. So there could be more of their drones lying around, only that we don't know it yet? And my dreams seem to indicate that the _Spidercrabs_ have bigger brothers, which we have not seen yet."

"Exactly. I've told Captain Sheik, and Captain Vansen, but they're now so fixated on the Falcons that everything I've said just sails on right through their heads. And just how confident are you about your dreams?"

"I'm very confident of my visions, and my dreams. Have not the events of the past few years proven the power and truth of Nova Cat soothsaying? Ignore them at your own peril, which I do not think you will." He grinned. "You are wary, and that is a useful trait in a warrior. Where do you think the alien machines are, if they even exist here?"

"I don't know, there's plenty of places to hide on a planet this big. Caves in a mountain, perhaps, or even in the oceans. But if they are around, why haven't they attacked yet?"

"Maybe a signal is necessary to trigger them? If I remember correctly, there was a line of bones around the base…"

"That's right! They attacked only after somebody stepped over the line! That was the trigger! So there could be more alien drones around, only that we haven't triggered them yet."

"We should be thankful for that. If they are activated then what happens in my dreams may come to pass."

"We really should be getting off this rock. But instead we're here waiting for the Falcons and who knows what else to come wipe us out. Not my idea of a good time."

"Indeed. But we cannot leave this place with only three jumpships, and to abandon the others would be a mark of greatest cowardice."

"Yeah." Frank sighed. "Looks like we would just have to take things one step at a time. How's the batchall coming along?"

"Major Ian is doing fine. He will be ready when the time comes. By the way, how do you find your new mech? Did you get the _Enforcer_ or the _Grasshopper_?"

"I got the _Grasshopper_. It's a good mech, but I would have liked to have the _Enforcer_, because of the Ultra autocannon. Captain Vansen thinks that giving me a heavier mech should keep me alive longer." Frank sounded dubious.

"Huh. Watch out, my friend. Bigger mechs attract more shells. Why do you think I prefer my _Black Hawk_, even though I could have moved up to a heavier mech?"

"Sheer incompetence?" Frank gave an innocent smile.

Deserk looked shocked for a while, before he caught on, and both men laughed heartily at that.

_Dropship _Battle's Bane_, Drop Zone Phi,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery,_

_5th March 3068_

Major Ian Dorlacen, commander of the Arch Lancers combined arms mercenary battalion, was nervous. Never in his wildest dreams could he have envisioned taking on Clan Jade Falcon on a world in the Deep Periphery with the possible future of humanity at stake, at the head of the most ragtag group of mercs ever assembled.

If the stakes had been high before, it was even higher after the discovery of real alien technology. Ian tried to fight down his fear of the clans using that same technology to run roughshod over the Inner Sphere.

The other mercenaries had already made it quite clear to him that a peaceful solution would be much preferred, which he agreed wholeheartedly with. They would be willing to part with a copy of all the data if the Falcons were willing to return them their jumpships and a way home.

However, Ian was highly doubtful that this would work, but every avenue must be explored before they were force into combat. So he had agreed to try a soft-sell approach. Hopefully, the Falcons would simply accept what they had to offer, return them their jumpships, and depart.

_Snowball's chance in hell, truth be told. There's no way the Falcons will be bought off like this. But we ain't got a choice._ But Ian just kept his thoughts to himself. The rest of the mercs were also smart enough that they knew what was the likely outcome of their batchall.

Part of the problem was that they had absolutely no idea what the Falcons were doing here in the first place, or exactly how much they knew about Area 51. For all the mercs knew, the Falcons were simply on a training exercise, however unlikely it might be.

The bottom line was, they had to be ready for anything, if they were to get their jumpships back, along with the way home.

And the very first step to that would be a successful batchall.

Ian had felt that Jadine Sheik was a better candidate for the challenge, with her intensive knowledge of the clans. However, she had told him, as well as the other commanders, that his rank was more important. Anything that he had needed to learn, she could teach him, and had, with the help of the former Nova Cat Deserk. He had went through several rehearsals with the other two mercenaries in the past two days, and his performance had convinced the others that he could carry off the batchall successfully.

Even so, he felt unease at his position, as well as the instructions in case the Falcons were spoiling for a fight. Like Tukayyid, they would divide up the world into numerous battle zones, with each mercenary detachment centered on their dropship groupings battling a Falcon unit of similar strength. The reason was that the different mercenary commanders wanted to prove their own unit's competence and a chance at clan salvage. Furthermore, such actions had a high chance of wearing down the Falcons, as well as forcing them to expend as much supplies as possible fighting each group of mercs.

But the reluctance to split up forces ran strong in many commanders, and Ian was no exception. He much preferred several large showdowns, with the environment properly 'prepared' beforehand, of course. He had not become the commander of a mercenary battalion in the Chaos March by being stupidly 'honorable'. Yet he had always fulfilled his contracts to the best of his abilities, never defaulting once.

He was originally from the Taurian Concordat, before joining up with the Green Mountain Boys as a mechwarrior for a life of adventure. He left the Boys after a few years, to try to form his own unit, and succeeding spectacularly. However, he still felt deep pangs of regret whenever he thought of the family he had left behind. _Is abandoning my family worth all this?_ This question haunted him constantly, every time he heard some news about his homeland, now left far behind in his past.

And now he wondered if he was going to die on this world, surely a paradise, but still far away from his family. His unit was good, having been blooded in numerous skirmishes in the Chaos March, and composed of hardened veterans. A company each of mechs, armor, and infantry gave him a great deal of flexibility in tactics and plenty of options, especially in restricted terrain, where his battalion excelled in.

Standing in the bridge of the ancient _Fortress _class dropship _Battle's Bane_, Ian watched as the crew prepared to open communications to the Jade Falcon fleet. A holocamera was placed in front of him, while portable screens were set up around him should he need to consult with the other mercs during the batchall.

Right now, the dark, attractive face of Captain Jadine Sheik was on one of the screens, giving him last minute advice.

"When speaking, you must always project an image of strength and confidence. Any less and they will try to turn the bargaining to their own advantage. Remember, declare the forces we are defending with first, which is practically everything, and they will give us the choice of the battleground, as is the custom. The Falcons may have up to two entire galaxies, so terrain will be very important. They may invoke safcon, so watch out. If they do, just refuse them. We're honorless mercs, after all." She grinned wolfishly. "They will probably underestimate us, so it's up to us to take full advantage of that. Try to use clan conventions as much as possible. It puts them off and shows that you respect them and are worthy of respect at the same time."

"Anything else for me to know?"

"Yes. Good luck. You'll need it for the rest of us."

"Sir! Ready to open a line to the Falcons." A tech shouted out.

Giving his uniform one last tug to straighten it, Ian prepared to face the enemy commander, to bargain for the fate of over ten thousand lives.

_Warship _Blue Aerie_, In Transit,_

_System Einstein, Deep Periphery,_

Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth was surprised when she was called out from her room to the bridge, and even more so when she was told that the mercs are offering a preliminary batchall for possession of their jumpships. She had half expected them to hide on the planet for a guerilla war.

Valten Folkner had seen to the interrogation of the crews of the captured jumpships, and obtained a great deal of useful information, which would help her greatly in the bidding within Rho Galaxy and bargaining against the mercs.

While there were 8 regiments of mercenaries, only 3 regiments were composed of mechs. The others were armor and infantry units. As for aerospace forces, they had only a measly 80 fighters in all, no match at all for the numbers the Falcons were bringing in.

Nevertheless, Lizabet was still wary of her enemies. Although most of the units on planet were scarcely better than bandits, there were still quite a few with relatively good reputations able to give her clusters a good battle. Among their number was the hated Wolf Dragoons, who had foiled the Falcons on so many occasions. 

Also a worthy foe might be the Arch Lancers, a battalion which had distinguished itself in the fighting in the Chaos March. Although they had not fought the clans before as a unit, from the records she could see that several members had, which would make them familiar with clan tactics, and thus a deadlier threat.

The various Falcon commanders would select the rest of the mercs for their own battles. With so many enemy units, they would have no problem in picking a target unit to destroy. Indeed, many of her officers were already looking forward to crushing the dezgra mercs completely.

Stepping onto the bridge of the _Blue Aerie_, Lizabet was saluted by Valten Folkner. She had wanted to issue the challenge first, but apparently the defenders were more alert than she thought. _I had best be careful of making dangerous assumptions. There is no telling what they are capable of._

Walking up to a holotank, she prepared to greet the enemy warrior responsible for issuing the batchall.

The holotank shimmered briefly, and then an image of a scarred but attractive looking male appeared. He wore a green uniform, with only an insignia of rank. His expression was stern and solemn, his eyes portraying slight unease.

"I am Major Ian Dorlacen, Commander of the Arch Lancers, chosen by my peers to represent all of us for this batchall. I apologize for appearing in so limited a capacity, but we are only destitute mercenaries with scant advanced technology available to us. We welcome you to Einstein. As a matter of fact, we are wondering what your clan sees in this place."

"I am Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth, commander of Jade Falcon Rho Galaxy, leader of this task force. I understand your limitations. Your attempt to dissuade us from taking possession of this world, however, is futile. We know that there is an abandoned Star League Base on the planet with lost technology, and we intend to claim it for the glory of our clan. Neither you, nor anyone else, shall deter us from this goal. I presume you have found the said bases in question, quiaff?"

He replied coolly. "Yes, I mean aff. The bases are abandoned, and we have found much useful knowledge. We are willing to share the data in return for our jumpships. There is no need for us to do battle."

Lizabet grinned, showing her teeth in a smiling snarl. "We are the clans. We are warriors, not merchants in trade. We take what we want in fair battle, and woe betides any who stand in our way. We reject your offer. If you want your jumpships back, you will have to fight us for them. With what forces do you defend this world and its treasures from the talons of Clan Jade Falcon?"

The man looked disappointed. "Very well. So be it. Looks like we have no choice. As the defender, I am defending the planet and the Star League data with all our forces. The information on our forces is being transmitted over even as we speak."

Lizabet nods. "As the attacker, I am using the whole of Rho Galaxy. Where do you wish to fight?"

"All over the planet. I suggest that we engage in combat according to the positions of each mercenary unit, since we do not have a formal unified command."

"Like Tukayyid, quiaff?"

"Neg. Not exactly. The Com Guards had their Precentor Martial as overall commander. Not so for the clans. Here, the positions are reversed. You Falcons have an overall commander, while we're all over the place."

"But do you not have authority over the others? After all, you presented the batchall."

"No. I have no authority. I presented the batchall because somebody had to." He paused. "So, are you willing to accept my choice of the battlefield?"

Lizabet narrowed her eyes. "Very well, I accept the selection of the field of combat. Rest assured, if you win, you will have your jumpships back. I will need to oversee our internal bidding now, and you will be informed of the results."

"I suppose I am to thank you now, but I simply cannot understand why we have to fight. You want the data from the Star League, we just want our jumpships. We could simply exchange for the things we want, and go on our way. Instead you insist on fighting us, and much blood will be needlessly shed. Why?" The man was obviously unwilling to fight, which she considered a sign of weakness.

"We are warriors. Fighting is our way of life. Without war and battle, we are nothing. I regret the impending deaths of your men, but that comes with being a warrior. In any case, my warriors are angry that treasures of the Star League are in the hands of dezgra mercenaries. You will have to fight well to survive this battle. Well bargained and done." She nodded to the technician

With that, the image of the mercenary shimmered and disappeared.

"So what do you think?" Lizabet turned towards Valten Folkner.

"They seemed to be holding something back. More Inner Sphere deviousness, I suspect." Valten folded his arms, not impressed with the courtesy Lizabet had shown the filthy freebirth.

"Indeed." Lizabet had suspected as much. "The plan of having our forces attack all over the planet may also be a ploy to trick us into committing our forces piecemeal, where they could gather their strength and crush each unit singly."

Valten asked, "Will you let your commanders bid for the right to crush the mercenaries? The data coming in shows that despite their numbers, the mercs are not stronger than Rho Galaxy. But bidding will decrease our strength on the ground."

"Bidding amongst the Star Colonels will commence as usual. However, everybody will get a chance to fight. The only difference will be the types of foes they will face. Those who bid well will get to fight the better units. Those who bid poorly will have to settle for scum. Those troops discarded in the bidding will be assigned to those mercs who are neither scum nor truly worthy foes. Treat it as a test of bidding skill for my Star Colonels." She smiled.

"I think that Creed Mattlov will be eager for one of his trinaries to crush the Dragoons. He will probably have to go under the cutdown for the opportunity."

"All of my subordinates will have to take care that their thirst for glory does not outweigh their duty to the clan. I will not tolerate any wasteful defeats that weaken us unnecessarily. The Khans have been patient enough to allow me to rebuild the Galaxy back up to full strength."

"But the _Blue Aerie_ will be under Galaxy Command, quaiff?"

"Aff. I am sorry, but again you will have to sit this battle out."

"Stravag! How I wish for a real battle with another Warship! Those Inner Sphere freebirths had better build more warships soon, before I become solahma!" Valten, more than anyone, lived for capital ship combat.

Turning to a nearby tech, Lizabet ordered her, "Tell the Star Colonels that they are to report to the bridge for bidding now."

"Aff, Galaxy Commander."

As Lizabet Danforth waited for her Star Colonels, Rho Galaxy approached the brilliant blue green world that awaited their arrival, ready to crush the mercenaries and claim the world's treasures for their clan.


	11. Danger Close

_Drop Zone Alpha,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery,_

_6th March 3068_

In the cockpit of the Grasshopper, Frank was trying hard to relax, but the thought of impending combat against the most fearsome warriors humanity possessed made it impossible.

The previous day, after the batchall had been issued, they had greeted the news of the Falcons accepting the batchall with mixed feelings. Confidence, fear, despair, elation, all these emotions were experienced by the mercs as they tried to put together a plan to beat back the enemy.

The Falcons had bid among themselves for the honor (or shame) of facing the various mercenary commands. Due to the presence of the Dragoons, nobody doubted that the Falcons would be sending some of their very best up against the troops off the _Nile_.

And indeed, it was a veteran level trinary from the 12th Falcon Regulars that got the bid. Star Colonel Creed Mattlov had gone below the cutdown for the _Nile_ by a star of mechs, which meant the Falcons had wanted two binaries to go up against the Dragoons, the Raiders and Captain Omo's tank company.

The bid of just a trinary was still enough to give the mercs lots of problems. Composed of an assault star, a heavy star, and a light star, the trinary actually had firepower the equal of an average Inner Sphere battalion. The mercs' plan would have to be perfect, and executed perfectly for them to have any chance of victory.

The three mercenary companies had split up in the forest surrounding the Star League base. The tank company, ill suited to a battle in the open, actually had a theoretical fighting chance in the dense forest, but Captain Omo was adamant that his tankers not engage the Falcons straight on, attacking only after the Falcons were already weakened. For this reason, they were held in reserve at the site of the base. The SRM carriers would be the most deadly machines of the tankers, able to fling almost 60 SRMs in ten seconds. Some of them were even equipped with inferno rounds, to make things hot for the Falcons.

The Dragoons and the Raiders had separated into their respective companies, each holding a position about ten miles north of the tankers, forming an inverted triangle with the tankers being the lowest point. The dropship, south of their positions, was not included in the bid and thus could not participate in the battle. The Falcons would be attacking from the north.

The plan was to force the Falcons to split their forces as well, confronting both Inner Sphere mech companies simultaneously. The force engaging the stronger Falcon column was instructed to fight a delaying action, so as to allow the other company to overcome the weaker force. The tank company was to be brought in once one of the Falcon groups was eliminated. The combined mercenary force could then take out the remaining Falcons.

In all brutal honesty, nobody expected the Falcons to succumb that easily, or the merc group unlucky enough to face the bulk of the Falcon forces to hold out long enough. No plan _ever_ survives contact with the enemy, and this one, they felt but did not say out loud, was no exception.

"All units report." Captain Vansen's voice crackled over Frank's neurohelmet.

"Alpha Two, present."

"Alpha Three, present."

"Alpha Four, present." Since he was piloting a heavy, Frank was placed in the Command Lance as the fourth member, to make up for the loss of Marco Kluivert.

The Raiders were down to eleven mechs ready for action, since they were short a pilot. The Dragoons, without any backup pilots were even worse off, with only ten mechs taking to the field. The odds did not look good.

As the other company members reported in, Frank checked his systems one more time. He definitely did not want some important system to fail at a critical juncture later. Better be safe than sorry.

There was a short burst of static. "Guys, this is Gamma Three." Kily's voice broke in. "Picking up five contacts from the north, coming in fast. Hold on, confirming IFF." A short pause. "Yup, it's the Falcons alright. Looks like a medium, or a heavy star. Moving back now. You guys had better get ready, coz they'll be on top of you in three minutes."

"Everybody look sharp now!" Captain Vansen barked. "Advance forward at walking speed, try to get in as close as possible. The short ranges allowed in the forest should tip the odds a bit more to our side."

The command and medium lances of the Raiders began to move from their previously still positions, like statues suddenly coming to life after millennia of standing. Brushing aside trees and other obstacles, the mechs looked every bit the ultimate weapons of war.

The Raiders advanced in two ranks, with the command lance, with their heavier mechs, in the front. The medium lance had instructions to try to get behind the Falcons as soon as possible once the command lance had engaged.

"Raiders, this is Dragoon Lead." Captain Sheik came in over the comms. "We're facing a Falcon assault star, and it doesn't look good right now. We'll try to take them down as soon as possible. Hold on for as long as you can."

"Dragoon Lead, this is Alpha Lead, we're up against a medium star. Advise caution. We have no idea where the third star is. Crawler Lead, there might be a star on their way to you, watch out." Crawler was the code for the tank company.

_One star facing us, one star facing the Dragoons. Don't tell me the third star is going to strike at Captain Omo's troops? This doesn't look good._ Frank was getting more and more anxious by the second, as his _Grasshopper_ ate up the ground with huge strides.

"Visual contact! Prepare to fire!" Captain Vansen ordered. The mercs could now see faint outlines of the clanners in the forest.

A _Black Hawk_, two _Lokis_, a _Night Gyr_, and a _Black Lanner_. All omnimechs, equipped with the very best in clan technology. Charging at the mercs with extreme ferocity, their green paint schemes melding in with their surroundings, the clan mechs looked a blur as they moved with frightening speed and grace in the dense forest.

"Fire at will! Concentrate on the _Loki_s first!" Instructions were not long in coming. Frank agreed with the choice of targets. Poorly armored compared to other clan heavies, a few well-placed shots should be able to disable them. The problem is that _Loki_s have a great deal of firepower as well, which makes taking them down without serious losses extremely difficult.

The mechs of Vansen's Raiders all raised their arms, ready to strike the first blow against Clan Jade Falcon. It only took a command from Captain Vansen for the Raiders to initiate combat.

"All mechs! Fire!" He shouted.

The command lance fired first, as they were the closest to the approaching enemy. Captain Vansen's _Stalker_ unleashed its awesome firepower all at once against a _Loki_, in an attempt to destroy it before it could bring its own weaponry to bear. He was running a high risk of an engine shutdown, using an alpha strike attack, but he felt the odds were worth it.

At such short ranges, forced onto the combatants by the dense forest, many of the shots hit their target. The missiles swarmed all over the _Loki_, crushing armor in a series of explosions. A narc pod, seemingly harmless, attached itself to the _Loki_'s right leg, ready to sing its siren song for the missiles of the rest of the company. Laser beams, of the medium and large varieties, melted armor all over the _Loki_.

Liase was more cautious, firing only the short range weapons on her _Battlemaster_. Even so, a six pack salvo of SRMs backed up by four medium lasers was no laughing matter, as the _Loki_ she was attacking was already reeling from the _Stalker_'s onslaught. Although not all the weapons hit, the attack further weakened the armor on the _Loki_, and laid open its internal structure. The _Loki_ managed to stay on its feet, a testament to the skill of clan pilots.

Qing's _Marauder_ opened up with its two PPCs on the second _Loki_. Despite the short range, the PPCs both hit, puncturing armor on the torso and a leg. Qing did not fire any more weapons, afraid of the effects of overheating, especially in a heat hog like the _Marauder_.

Frank fired his Diplan lasers at the second _Loki_, melting yet more armor but failing to penetrate its internal structure. Pre-heating his jumpjets, he prepared to jump the _Grasshopper _behind the Falcon line, hopefully forcing the Falcons to split their attention long enough for the medium lance to get close.

The medium lance was still about fifty meters behind the line formed by the command lance when the Falcons retaliated with a vengeance.

Rushing forward, the _Black Hawk_ unloaded on Frank's _Grasshopper_ while it was in mid-jump, its gauss rifle slamming into his centerline with enough force to make him bounce in his seat. Its small pulse laser and SRMs peppered his mech, shaking it up further. Frank had to concentrate hard to bring the mech back under control for a landing, and he was shaken by the ferocity and skill of the clan warrior.

The _Night Gyr_, arguably the most dangerous of the Falcon mechs, fired on the _Battlemaster_. Armed with a massive ultra class heavy autocannon, it spat out a storm of shells at the _Battlemaster_. There was a horrific tearing sound, as the legs of Liase's mech were hammered relentlessly. After such a devastating strike, the bursts of missiles and lasers seemed almost an afterthought, as the _Battlemaster_ crashed to the ground, unable to cope with the loss of so much armor.

Configured almost solely with short-range weapons, nobody could accuse the _Night Gyr A _useless at close combat. Meanwhile, its unique laser heat sinks struggled to vent the heat it had built up, in a series of dazzling light displays.

The Falcons seemed to be holding to their code of zellbrigen, with each clanner engaging one opponent, and the _Black Lanner_ did not act any differently, firing its fearsome array of six ER medium lasers at Qing's _Marauder_. The shots mostly blazed onto the _Marauder_'s arms, severely damaging them.

The two _Loki_'s, freed from the rules of engagement by the mercenaries' combined fire on them, ganged up on the _Stalker_. PPCs, lasers, missiles and gauss rounds slammed into the massive _Stalker_, wreathing it in equally large explosions.

As the explosions died away, the _Stalker _emerged with its armor scarred, but looking relatively intact otherwise. Then the mercs noticed something.

There was a big hole where the cockpit should be. The mech swayed on its feet for a while, then collapsed onto the ground, unable to balance itself without a living brain to control it.

"Captain Vansen's down!" Someone screamed over the comms. "Let's get out of here!"

"No!" Frank rebutted as he grimly lined up a shot on the _Black Hawk_ that had fired on him. "If we pull back now, the Falcons are going to wipe out the Dragoons! We've got to hold them!" Firing his large laser, he hit the _Black Hawk_'s torso.

"Dammit!" Kily exclaimed as he missed one of the _Lokis _with his missiles, attacking together with the rest of the recon lance from the western flank as they swung out and back in quickly from the rear of the Raider's formation. Their firepower could hardly make a dent in the Falcon formation, though, and the Falcons continued to press into the mercs' formation. The battle was fast turning into a close quarters melee. Under normal circumstances, that would have given the mercs a slight advantage, but the Falcons had apparently configured their mechs for just the occasion, and were gaining the upper hand.

The mechs of the medium lance bore in straight against the clan omnimechs. The _Hunchback_ fired its own heavy autocannon at a _Loki_, tearing into its internals and shearing off an arm, depriving it of a PPC.

Tim Fowler, having taken over the _Enforcer III_, fired both his Mydron autocannon and the Blazefire large laser at the same _Loki_, hoping to bring it down once and for all. The laser blast went awry, hitting a nearby tree, while the autocannon rounds tore into the _Loki_'s legs, crippling critical actuators and reducing the omnimech to a hobbling gait.

Kahn in his _Centurion_ cut loose with his own autocannon and lasers, as he tried to bring down the battered _Loki_. Unfortunately, the autocannon missed, and the lasers only nibbled away more of the omnimech's internals.

Frank faced off against the _Black Hawk_, which had seemed to pick him out as its opponent for this battle. Exchanging volleys of furious fire with the clanner, he was trying to get within the minimum effective range of the _Black Hawk_'s deadly gauss rifle. It had already taken a heavy toll on his armor, and he was anxious to put a stop to it. However, the faster and more maneuverable_ Black Hawk_ was able to keep the _Grasshopper _at a respectable distance for its main gun.

Meanwhile, the battle raged in the forest, as the limping, battered _Loki_ simply refused to die, despite all of the mercenaries' attempts. The narc pod had been shot off when the armor on the leg had been completely destroyed. The omnimech now looked like a heap of twisted metal and wires, not at all the pinnacle of human war technology it formerly was.

"Help! Arrgghhh!" A cry from Deris Kaine, as her _Hunchback _was torn apart by the sheer fury of the less damaged _Loki_'s assault, its missiles tearing into the mech's right torso and setting off the ammunition stores for the autocannon. The _Hunchback _lit up as internal explosions from within burst out in gouts of bright flame.

The ensuing explosion also flung the _Loki_ onto the ground, where it laid motionless.

Tired of the recon lances' feeble attempts to turn the tide, the _Night Gyr_ turned towards the _Jenner_, intent on swatting it out of action. Just as the _Jenner _jumped in for another stinging blow with its weapons, the _Night Gyr_ fired its large laser. Impacting right in the center of the _Jenner_, the effects were immediate. Crumpling the weak frontal armor of the light mech, the undissipated electromagnetic energy went on to shatter the _Jenner_'s gyro into a million pieces.

The light mech, in the middle of its jump, plowed into the ground, sending up soil and dust on its crash path through the forest before a thick clump of trees stopped its landing sequence.

Down to eight mechs, and not having taken out any of the clan mechs, the mercs are in trouble, and they knew it. Worse yet, the clanners knew it too.

_And our command structure has all gone to hell!_ Frank's mind screamed to him. _We can't stand here slugging it out with them any longer, we don't have the firepower._

Then an idea came to Frank. It was a long shot, and Captain Omo would probably hate him for it, but it was the last, best chance they have. If the Raiders could not stop the clanners, it was doubtful that the tankers could, _on their own_.

_We need firepower, and nothing beats a company of SRM carriers at pointblank range!_

"Everyone! Pull back to the base! Fire as you move!" Frank realized his words sounded very similar to what a mechwarrior corporal had yelled to his makeshift command, years ago and parsecs away.

Slowly, almost painfully, the surviving members of the Raiders pulled back. Liase's _Battlemaster_ staggered back to its feet, laying down covering fire with its medium lasers and SRMs. The recon lance simply dashed back at top speed.

"Kily! Get to the tankers first and tell them to dig in and hide their tanks near the base! We're going in fast! And we really need their firepower!"

"Wilco, buddy! Watch your six!"

As the mercs pulled back, they were thankful the Falcons did not pursue. The clanners were waiting for the fallen _Loki_ to regain its feet before they continued to pursuit. The mercs limped away, trying to get more distance between them and the clanners in order to vent their excess heat and to affect some quick repairs or rerouting of critical systems.

Star Commander Riso was proud of his command. They had taken down three of the Inner Sphere surat freebirths without losing a single omnimech. Even Mechwarrior Trulow's much damaged _Hellbringer _was still standing after the immense pounding, and able to fight. She had acquitted herself well, despite the odds.

Of course, his _Night Gyr_ had also played a key part, almost crippling the _Battlemaster_ and destroying the lightweight _Jenner_. It had not been damaged throughout the entire battle so far, and Riso intended to keep it that way.

Waiting for Mechwarrior Derlon to steady his _Hellbringer_ after his fall, Riso was much anxious to crush the mercenaries completely. It seemed that they did not even need the Star Captain's plan of having the light star hit the mercs on their rear flank ten minutes after battle was joined to achieve victory. His star alone was sufficient, and after the Raiders, they could then go on to destroy the Dragoons, who had escaped them on Coventry.

As his starmates assembled around him, Star Commander Riso throttled his mech up to top speed, eager for glory.

Kily Gonzalez had never been so scared in his life, especially when he saw a single blast from the clan omnimech destroy Lieutenant Jenny's mech. He had heard of the power that clan technology commands, but seeing it close up was an entirely different matter. PPCs that can totally tear through a mech's head, autocannons that never seemed to stop firing, missile packs with unerring accuracy. He was beginning to understand why many of the veterans on Solaris who had fought in the initial clan invasion called it 'hell'.

When Frank told the Raiders to disengage, Kily was only too happy to comply. He was even happier when Frank wanted him to go on ahead to warn the tankers. Anything to get away from the clans!

As he neared the Star League base where the tankers were held in reserve, he quickly opened a line to Captain Omo.

"Sir, this is Kily! Captain Vansen's dead, and we're getting our butts kicked! The rest of the Raiders are pulling back. Frank wants you to push your tanks forward into hidden positions amonst the trees. Says that's the only chance we have! If we can't beat the clanners here, they'll come after you next! There's no way your tanks can standalone against those omnis. They're bloody tough!"

"What! The clanners are headed this way! Damn you useless mechwarriors! All right, I'll do as you say, but the Raiders are going to owe me big time after this!" Captain Omo harumphed.

"Whatever you say, sir!" Kily was ecstatic. The tankers are going to help!

The eight slow, but heavily armed SRM carriers of the tankers moved out first, followed by four _Brutus_ tanks, the command unit of Captain Omo's company.

As they hastily prepared their tanks at what Captain Omo hoped would be enfilade positions behind where the clanners would engage the remaining Raiders, Kily nervously used the hands on his _Commando _to help, brushing up leaves and moving tree trunks in such a way that the Jade Falcons would be unable to detect the tanks.

Not soon after, the mechs of the Raiders limped in, led by Frank's battered _Grasshopper_.

"Heads up, people! Clanners coming in right behind us! ETA three minutes!" Frank announced as he parked his mech next to a tree.

"Young man, you better hope that this plan of yours works!" Captain Omo said, "And in any case, you guys owe us a big one, if we get out of this alive!"

"No problem!" Frank replied with a forced confidence he did not feel.

"Here they come!" Pash Balaji reported from his _Wasp_ after a few tense minutes.

The Falcons came on stolidly in a rush, not even pausing as they went into knife fight ranges, their weapons blazing a furious storm against the mercenaries.

_Here goes nothing. It's now or never._ Frank thought to himself as he pushed his mech forward, with all guns blazing. The Raiders were all doing the same, trying to remove enough armor off the omnimechs for the tankers to exploit.

The Falcons did not just stand there getting pounded. They returned fire, murderous and effective. Choosing the same targets as before, they looked to continue the zellbrigen.

The _Black Hawk_ fired its gauss rifle at Frank again, this time hitting the _Grasshopper_'s center torso and removing exactly half the armor on that location. Glancing at his screen, Frank was not encouraged by the readings on his BDU (Battle Damage Unit). The _Grasshopper_ had lost more than half of its armor, and although the armor on all locations had not been completely destroyed, it was only a matter of time before a shot went internal.

Exchanging fire with the clanners, the rest of the Raiders were giving as good as they got. The _Centurion_ finally connected with a series of hits to the wrecked _Loki_, coring its center and killing the mech. While it crashed to the hard earth, the other _Loki_ attacked, blasting away the _Centurion_'s left arm with a gauss rifle and missiles, which also went on to tear away more of the protection on the mech's left flank.

Placing his crosshairs over the previously undamaged _Night Gyr_ as he spotted an opportunity for a good shot, since the_ Black Hawk _had moved out of his sights, Frank fired all his weapons, even the LRMs, which were practically useless at close range. Amazingly, while three of his lasers missed, the missiles all hit, impacting onto the head of the clan mech, cracking parts of the cockpit glass.

As the heat in the _Grasshopper_ spiked, Frank found himself greedily sucking air. Looking around him, the sight confirmed what he already knew: the Falcons were now fully engrossed in their battle with the Raiders. It was the perfect time for the tankers to strike.

It all happened at once, as the tankers fired from their hidden positions. With each SRM carrier firing 54 SRMs at point-blank range, there was no way the clan warriors could have avoided the massive barrage.

The _Black Hawk_ was literally blasted off its feet as more than fifty missiles impacted all over it. When the explosions ended, the _Black Hawk_ was still standing, but with both arms missing and only bare bones with bits of myomer muscle for its legs. It begun to hobble away from the revealed tanks, clearly wary of the damage they could inflict.

The surviving _Loki_ staggered, and then blew apart as the SRMs found its internal missile stores. Even though its CASE system limited the damage from the ammunition explosion, enough SRMs went into its engine, killing the mech.

The _Black Lanner_ managed to evade most of the missiles aimed at it, utilizing its superior speed to simply slip in between the missile swarms. Even so, the ones that hit were more than enough to reduce its armor to tatters. It too started to back away.

Star Commander Riso was furious. The stravag scum had hidden tanks in the forest, and unleashed them against his star just when victory was within his grasp. The _Night Gyr_ shuddered as missiles slammed against its armor, barely under his control.

Riso was just about to fire his weapons at a group of SRM carriers clustered together when he noticed that the latest salvo of missiles flying towards at him burst into hot flames as the wayward ones hit the trees of the forest.

_Infernos missiles!_ His mind warned him just as the missiles on target hit his mech.

As the hot, burning napalm eagerly ate into the space of oxygen in the cockpit through the cracks and holes in the cockpit glass, Star Commander Riso was instantly burned alive. He barely had time to scream.

Frank was elated. The Falcons had been shattered by the sudden assault of the tank company. The _Loki _and _Night Gyr _had fallen, leaving only the _Black Lanner _and the _Black Hawk_ to deal with the eight remaining mechs of the Raiders and the twelve untouched vehicles of the tankers. The battle was clearly over.

Confidently moving the _Grasshopper _to finish off the _Black Hawk_, there was a sudden scream from a tanker.

"There're clan mechs behind me! Argghh!"

An explosion erupted, from the positions of the tankers. Several other tanks also went up in explosions as laser beams and missiles swung in at their positions from nowhere.

Not exactly nowhere, Frank realized with a shock as he caught sight of more clan mechs moving amongst the trees. They were not shown on his radar.

_ECM. They have ECM, jamming our sensors. This must be the light star that was missing! Damn it!_ Things were not looking good.

In their initial assault, the newcomers had managed to take out five tanks. Looking at the mechs, coming into full view, Frank started to worry again.

There was a _Ryoken_, a _Fenris_, supported by a pair of _Cougar_s, and a _Puma_ armed with what seemed to be dual PPCs. The odds had shifted firmly back to the Clan Jade Falcon.

"Crawlers! Move back! Don't go head to head with the clanners!" Captain Omo was frantically issuing new orders to his troops. Understandably so, as he had lost five SRM carriers in just the light star's first attack.

Realizing that none of the Raiders had any idea of their next move, Frank decided to take charge again. With their command structure wiped out, he supposed that somebody giving instructions was better than nobody.

"Raiders, move forward! We've got to take some of the heat off the tanks! Recon lance, harass the _Black Lanner_ and the _Black Hawk_, just keep them away from the tanks and us, don't worry about kills. The rest of you, concentrate on the _Ryoken_ and the _Fenris_!" _The _Ryoken_ probably has the commander_, Frank thought. _Have to make them flinch, convince them to pull back_.

Jumping his battered _Grasshopper_ into the action, Frank managed to intercept a series of laser blasts from the _Fenris_ meant for a SRM carrier that was backing up. The Grasshopper shuddered, and Frank tried to ignore the growing unease in his belly. The mech could not take much more punishment before suffering critical damage. He really hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Liase's _Battlemaster_ waded in, firing its full arsenal at the nearest omni, the _Cougar_. Caution had been thrown out the window, and it was all or nothing for the battered force. The _Cougar _shook off the hits, and continued to advance on the tanks.

Qing's _Marauder_ went at the _Ryoken_, firing its full array of PPCs, lasers and autocannon. The shots that hit managed to throw off the aim of the _Ryoken_, just as it was getting ready to fire at Frank's _Grasshopper_. That earned Frank a moment's respite from the clan omnimech's fury.

The Raiders' _Centurion _and _Enforcer III_ ganged up on the _Fenris_, their autocannons punching into the clan mech's armor, gouging deep holes in a series of pockmark explosions.

Frank fired his lasers at the _Ryoken_, the large laser flensing more armor off its center torso, while the two mediums that hit nibbled away at the protection on the arms and legs.

The clanners, having noticed that the mechs and not the tanks were hurting them, simply switched targets. The difference this time was they did not adhere to their dueling rules, using combined fire to destroy their opponents as quickly as possible.

The four large pulse lasers of the _Cougar_s spat out a rapid stream of green darts into Kahn's _Centurion_, destroying all the remaining armor on its torso. Kahn was not deterred, however, and closed in on the _Fenris_. Before he could advance any further, two PPC bolts from the _Puma_ plunged into the legs of his mech, the impact clubbing the _Centurion_ face forward into the ground.

The _Ryoken_ fired its double-barreled lasers on each arm at the _Enforcer III_, severely damaging the arms, which contain the majority of the _Enforcer_'s armament. The mech looked to have lost its balance for a while, before Tim apparently wrenched it back under control.

The _Fenris_ targeted Frank's _Grasshopper_, a storm of laser beams scarring the already abused armor on his mech. The large laser actually went into the internals in his torso, though no critical damage was done.

Frank thought desperately, _my luck is not going to last much longer. But at least we're holding our own. For now. Must get the tankers back into the action. We need their added punch!_

"Crawler Lead! Get your tanks back here! We'll draw their fire as long as possible, but we can't take much more of this." Frank was almost begging for help now.

"Yes, yes, I know! I just need to reorganize for a while back there. We're coming in now. That make you feel better?" The reply was quick and terse. Captain Omo knew what the situation was, and the importance of his company.

The Raiders traded another series of shots with the Falcons. Many of the Falcons' hits were now destroying internal structure on many of the mechs, the armor having been shot off earlier.

Kahn managed to get his _Centurion _up and marching towards the _Fenris_, which had stood its ground, hoping to destroy the approaching mech before it could get into close combat range. The _Fenris _fired all its weapons, all hitting the center of the _Centurion_.

Its middle section on fire, the _Centurion _collapsed onto the ground.

The _Cougar_s now sought to bring down Frank's _Grasshopper_, bringing their dual pulse lasers to bear. The few remaining pieces of armor were blasted off, and then everything went internal. Frank saw smoke begin to bellow out from in front of the cockpit, and he knew that the engine had been breached. Heat sinks were lost, and actuators were destroyed as the laser darts did their work. The _Grasshopper _was dying.

The _Puma_ fired only one PPC this time, hindered by heat built up earlier. Aided by its advanced targeting computer, the single shot still did quite a lot of damage, shearing off the _Enforcer III_'s right arm. The undamaged omni moved in for the kill.

The _Ryoken_ split its attention, firing at both the _Battlemaster _and the _Marauder_. All its shots hit, a mark of true skill from the clan pilot. The _Battlemaster _was left with a bad limp, while the _Marauder_ lost only more armor.

The Raiders did significantly less damage, only scoring more ferro-fibrous armor on the clan mechs, although they did manage to cripple the _Fenris_, damaging its engine and gyro after laying open its torso.

The _Brutus_ tanks opened fire as they rolled in, pouring laser blasts into the _Fenris_ and the _Ryoken_; these two are the heaviest omnis left facing the bulk of the mercs. Lasers and SRMs poured out of weapons ports, shedding armor as they hit.

The SRM carriers moved to the east flank of the battle, trying to outflank the clanners, and hopefully force them back.

The clanners did not flinch, even though the tanks were considerably fresher than the battered Raiders. The _Fenris_ dashed forward, giving the nearest _Brutus_ tank a series of kicks to its front, in addition to a serious fusillade of laser fire. The tank was there one moment, and the next it was a blossoming fireball, with the _Fenris_ moving quickly away.

The _Cougar_s and the _Puma_ now attacked the tanks, judging them to be the more immediate threat. This left Frank very relieved, as his _Grasshopper_ simply could not withstand another salvo.

Firing their entire weapons complements of paired lasers and missile racks, the _Cougar_s pummeled the tanks. One of the tanks locked up, its treads damaged. The other seemed to swerve dangerously for a while before slowing down to a stop as well.

The _Puma_ fired two blue arcs at the last tank, the excited atomic particles shoving aside armor to try to get into the soft interior of the vehicle. The tank lost only armor, and resumed its advance.

But Frank now noticed a certain hesitancy in the tank's movement. It took him a moment to realize that the tank that was destroyed was Omo's.

A fell mood suddenly descended on Frank. He began to feel a terrible rage within him, a strange bloodlust that he was unwilling to quench. He simply did not care anymore about his survival. He roared out a challenge to the Falcons, and then jumped his _Grasshopper_ forward. If the Falcons wanted a fight, he would gladly give them one, a battle to remember for the rest of their lives.

His vision focused into narrow slits, showing only the clan enemy mechs in front of him. He was dimly aware of the remaining rational part of his mind trying to reclaim the rest, but he did not, could not, care.

He heard somebody say, "Frank! What are you doing?"

Another voice penetrated his consciousness. "Get back here! They'll tear that tin can apart!"

Startled by his actions, the other Raiders tried to calm him down, get him back into their lines. It was suicide to charge the clans.

Frank paid them no heed. He had never felt this way in his life before; time seemingly slowed down before his eyes. Landing beside the _Fenris_, he turned to fire a full laser barrage into the omni, blowing away one of its legs. The _Fenris_ collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, the pilot ejecting from his fallen mech.

The _Ryoken_ loomed large before him, and he kicked out with the _Grasshopper_. Despite the damaged leg actuators, he just managed to connect solidly, crushing leg armor on the _Ryoken_, and causing it to fall down on its back.

But not before it had blown away the _Grasshopper_'s right arm, removing the large laser that was the _Grasshopper_'s most important weapon. With his mech unbalanced by the loss of the arm, Frank had to struggle with his controls for a while to remain upright. His efforts were in vain, however.

The remaining mechs of the clan star all concentrated fire on the _Grasshopper_, intent on punishing the audacious mech that had dared to jump into their midst and cause so much havoc.

Frank tried his best to keep the _Grasshopper_ moving, but it was a lost cause. Laser and PPC blasts went into the _Grasshopper_. The mech began to shake violently from under him as Frank was wrenched out of his berserk state. He took one look at his status screens.

_Help! _He did not even have time to cry as he felt the mech topple over.

Frank blacked out as the _Grasshopper_ crashed to the ground.

Unknown to Frank, his actions had given the mercs one last chance to shift the odds. The remaining mechs concentrated their fire on the three light omnis on their feet. In addition, the surviving SRM carriers also went in with moving walls of SRMs.

The _Cougar_s were savaged by the attack, losing weapon pods and actuators as they tried to maneuver back. A PPC blast from Qing's _Marauder_ laid open the cockpit of the _Puma_, followed up by several missiles that shattered it. The omni remained standing, but bereft of a pilot to guide it, it was not going anywhere.

All of a sudden, it was over, the _Cougar_s turning around and running away from the battlefield. The _Ryoken _stood up and tried to back away, but was destroyed when the mercs all combined fire on it.

An eerie silence settled over the forest. The mercs had beaten back Clan Jade Falcon.

Frank woke up to an enormous headache, with the anxious faces of Kily and Deserk staring at him as he tried to push himself from the bed he was lying in.

"Well, did we win?" He asked as he sat up.

"Huh, he goes berserk in the middle of a fight, takes on two omnis at once, gets clobbered flat, snoozes for the better part of a day, wakes up, and the first thing he asks for is whether we won. No concern at all for his fellow mercs." Kily was grinning ruefully as he said this.

Frank rubbed his forehead slowly, trying to ease the pain. "Sorry. Just got too caught up in the battle, you know. So, what happened?"

"In a way, you could say we won, but the price was too high. As usual." Deserk sounded like a defeated man. "Your Raiders beat back the Falcons, but you had only seven mechs left. Same for the tankers, only six tanks left, and two of them are ready for the salvage yards. The crews of the destroyed tanks were all dead."

"We've lost Captain Vansen, Deris and Lieutenant Jenny. Kahn's all right, he's in the sickbay too. But we're pretty beat up now."

"Deserk, what about the Dragoons? Since we were facing two stars, that means you had to fight the assault star."

"Even with two to one odds, it was a difficult battle. They had configured their mechs for close combat, and they were ready for us. We used hit and run tactics to minimize our losses, but their weapons still hurt us. We've lost five mechs of our own, and four mechwarriors. Captain Sheik's _Gunslinger_ was destroyed, and she was hurt grieviously. She's in critical condition now. All of us were hoping you could do something to help."

"What? I don't think I'm in any condition to help, but I'll try my best. Where is she?" Frank asked as he eased himself off the bed, gingerly placing pressure on his legs, confirming that he was able to walk before standing totally on his own.

"In the ICU."

"The other mercs on-planet?" Frank had moved over to the intensive care unit and was studying the readouts. His head hurt like hell, but a life was at stake.

"Reports still coming in. But things do not look good. We were one of only a few groups to survive relatively intact. Some units have already been wiped out. But the Falcons have also been hurt. The trinary that fought us has only six mechs left. We may only have twelve mechs left, but the tech crews assure me some of the omnis left on the field are recoverable. They're working on it now."

Frank whistled. Clan mechs would definitely be an asset to the beleaguered mercs. Then a thought struck him. "Deserk, if Captain Sheik is WIA, Captains Vansen and Omo, and who knows who else is dead, who's in charge now?"

Deserk glanced at Kily once, and then deadpanned. "You are."


	12. To The Knife

_Drop Zone Phi,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery,_

_6th March 3068_

On a ridge with rocky spires, a company of mechs marched, their stances tall and proud. Sending up clouds of dust with every footstep, they made quite a din as they proceeded over the ridge onto the plains. Behind them moved a group of vehicles, both tracked and hovercraft.

They were ready for war.

They were ready for Clan Jade Falcon.

Major Ian Dorlacen had no wish to go head on with the Falcons in a fight, especially against their better technology. He had planned for a series of fades and thrusts, to frustrate them while depriving them of their usual elemental support. He had also prepared command detonated mines just over the ridge, where his mech company had just marched past.

To him, preparation was everything. With ample preparation, the battle could be won even before the first shot was fired. It was dishonorable, he admitted to himself, but he had always taken the motto 'war to the knife' to heart. It was no game to him, and he planned to survive till the very end, no matter what the odds.

He moved his _Awesome_ forward, leading his company of mechs onto the green plains, where the brightness of the grass and flowers was so glaring that it threatened to blind him. He had never seen such a place of beauty in his whole life, on a dozen worlds where he had traveled. He felt it was a shame that the coming battle would probably destroy the field, and uproot the grass. The blooming flowers would be crushed under gigantic mech feet, proof of the frailness of nature compared to the might of humanity's war machines.

In the distance, he could see the approaching Jade Falcon mechs, a binary of mechs and a binary of Elementals, Supernova Alpha of the 124th Striker Cluster, an elite outfit that was the equal of any Inner Sphere regiment. They sent up a dust cloud as they marched towars his unit's position.

On paper, his Arch Lancers had no chance, but he reckoned that with some creative use of his vehicles and infantry, plus the mines, he could pull off yet another upset to add to his already impressive line of victories gained in the Chaos March.

But he still needed his mechs to bait the Falcons first. And his company was well equipped, though still not as upgraded as the house regulars. His _Awesome_ with four PPCs, two upgraded _Marauders_, one of Steiner make, one of Davion make, and a former Liao _Cataphract_ made up his command lance.

An upgraded _Archer_, a Davion style _Rifleman_ with PPCs, a _Catapult_ and a _Crusader_ formed his Fire/Support lance. Able to deliver incredible amounts of firepower onto their opponents at long range, they had express orders to stay behind his command lance and give fire support. Getting in close would only hurt them, as they lacked sufficient close in weapons.

His recon lance was also as good as it got from the Chaos March. A _Raven_, a _Javelin_, a salvaged _Duan Gung_, and a _Garm_ made a lance that would outmatch almost any other light recon lance in the Inner Sphere.

As the Falcons came into range, the Arch Lancers opened up with their weapons at extreme range, LRMs and PPCs scouring armor on the Falcon mechs, but hardly stopping them. His unit adhering to the rules of zellbrigen, Ian was willing to forgo the chance to take down one or two Falcon mechs for a true tactical advantage later in the battle. Of course, this was also dependent on the Clanners following their own rules of combat. So far, the Falcon commander seemed willing to play along. After all, it was to their advantage.

The _Awesome_'s four PPCs lashed out with lightning, one of them impacting on an _Uller_, melting armor over its left torso.

The Falcons returned fire, their Elementals having disembarked long before, inflicting an equal amount of damage on the Lancers. Surprisingly, they did not seem to have their usual variety of long range weapons on their mechs, since the long range fire was weaker than expected. Ian figured they had expected a knife fight battle.

The elementals were already on the move, bounding fearlessly forward towards the Lancer mechs with their jump jets. According to Ian's estimates, they would be within firing range for their SRMs in about a minute. Which gave him an opportunity to remove them from the battle, before they could even reach his mechs.

Guiding his company slowly to one flank, he hoped the Falcons would mirror their movement, leaving their elementals unsupported and alone.

True to form, the Falcons stayed with the Lancers as they dueled at long range, LRMs and PPCs blazing through the air. The elementals tried desperately to close, but the distance was too far for them. Ian had no intention of letting them get that close anyway.

Issuing quick orders to his waiting vehicles on the ridge, Ian watched as his _Regulator_, _Myrmidon_, and upgraded LB-X autocannon-equipped _Gladius_ tanks zip past his flanks with terrifying speed to attack the elementals.

With the zellbrigen still going on, theoretically speaking, the Falcons could fire upon the vehicles without breaking the rules of dueling, but that would have diverted their attention from the mechs, which they took to be their most dangerous enemies, so the tanks were free to pound the hapless elementals at long range with PPCs, Gauss rifles and autocannons. And they were succeeding all too well, taking down more than five elementals in their opening salvo.

But the Falcon mechs were also pounding Ian's mechs hard, as they pushed strongly at the thin line formed by his company. His _Awesome_ staggered as it was hit by a gauss slug, making his teeth clatter together painfully as he bounced around in his cockpit.

Placing his crosshairs over the _Uller_ that had fired on him, he unleashed all four of his PPCs, going internal on all his shots and removing its deadly gauss rifle on the right arm of the clan mech he had been dueling. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out who was mad enough to attack a mech more than forty tons heavier, even in a clan omni.

Ian panted for breath as the cockpit temperature suddenly shot up with his discharge of four PPCs. _That was one heck of a lucky shot. Hmm, time to pull back now. They're getting just a bit too close for comfort._

Glancing at his command, he was pleased to see that he has not lost any mechs yet, though several were already quite badly damaged. The downside to his emphasis on long range combat and constant maneuvering was that the Falcons had suffered very little damage as well, and were closing all the time. With their paucity of long range weapons, he feared the results of their closing with his company, as they probably had a plethora of short range armaments ready to tear his company to shreds.

He ordered. "All mechs, back off according to the plan. Prepare for the fireworks later."

With that, his mechs began to move back as fast as they can. Several mechs even turned around, presenting rear armor to the Falcons as they fled over the ridge. It was simply planned chaos.

It was bait.

The Falcons, smelling blood, rushed forward to pursue, abandoning their elementals to the mercy of the vehicles. There would be time enough to destroy the upstart vehicles, once the mechs were dealt with!

Meanwhile, the elementals had all gone to ground, hugging the soil to avoid getting picked off by the relentless fire of the vehicles. They had no chance of getting close enough to the vehicles to hurt them, with such a vast difference in traveling speeds. The vehicles were also smart enough to stay at medium to long range for their weapons. Their patience was gradually paying off, as more than twenty elementals had already been killed, for no losses to the tanks. It was a turkey shoot.

As the Falcon mechs crested the ridge, Ian had turned his company back towards the ridge where they had just passed, his finger placed lightly over the button for detonating the mines. As the Falcons charged down with cannons blazing, he pressed down hard on the button.

All of a sudden, there were massive explosions amongst the Falcons, as the command detonated mines did their work. The Lancers did not hesitate, using combined fire to take down one badly damaged clan omni after another. The battered Falcons tried to rally, but they had taken too much damage from the mines to turn the tide.

Ian finished off the _Uller_ that had been bugging him from the start with a dual PPC blast, blowing its legs off. A terrific explosion rumbled off to one side as a clan omni's reactor went critical. The remaining clan mechs bunched together in a tight circle for a last stand. Everybody knew by now the battle was effectively over.

Opening a open channel to the clan mechs, Ian asked them to surrender.

"Attention Clan Jade Falcon mechs. This is Major Dorlacen. You have been surrounded by the Arch Lancers. There is no need for you to waste your lives in needless battle. You have shown great prowess in severely hurting my force." _Pile on the compliments, make them feel good._

"If not for my admittedly dishonourable tactics, I would now already be your bondsman. As it happens, your elementals are dying behind the ridge, and you have no hope of victory against my mechs. Do not squander your lives in useless battle. Live, and there will be chances later to earn glory. Fight now, and you will only die. Future generations would only look at you and say that you were useless fools who refused to take the chance to redeem themselves because of their pride." _Insult them to show our strength, then give them a chance to salvage their pride. Offer them a lifeline. Damn, but these clanners are predictable._

As he spoke, there was no movement at all from the clanners. He was sure they knew what he wanted. Their surrender.

"So, what say you? Are you willing to stand down, and live to fight another day, to regain your lost honor?"

It took a few moments before he received a reply.

"Neg! We will not surrender to dishonorable surats! Attack."

Everything happened in a rush, as the mechs of the Lancers delivered one devastating salvo after another, downing the clanners in an orgy of fire and blood.

The clanners did not die easily, their return shots claiming three Lancer mechs. It was to no avail, however, as the Falcons succumbed to the overwhelming array of firepower directed at them. It took less than two minutes for the fighting to stop, with the utter destruction of the clan force.

Receiving a report from his vehicle company, Ian was further delighted to have wiped out an two whole elemental stars without losing a single vehicle. His joy was tempered by the fact that many good warriors had died needlessly, especially those of the Falcons.

_Is their hate so strong, their pride worth so much, that they would rather die uselessly than to give up and fight another day? What's a life worth to them? Damn! I should have tried another way._ He shook his head inside his cockpit. _Well, at least we got some good salvage out of this. How can anyone wage war the way they do?_

Turning his mech around in time to see the arrival of the salvage crews, he hoped that there were some survivors among the Falcons.

Twenty minutes later, at the foot of the _Battle's Bane_, as he dismounted from his mech, his chief tech Pascal Thome sauntered up with a report.

"Good news, Boss. The salvage boys say Giggs, Panis, and Rashid are alive. Dean looks like he might lose his legs, though. We're getting a preserving sleeve on it ASAP. We've got about ten elementals alive, and two clan mech jockeys. They're all on their way  back on a salvage truck."

"Even better news is that some of the clan mechs are recoverable. We've stripped those which are too damaged to repair, but there's a _Mad Cat_ in relatively good condition, a _Puma_ missing an arm, and a _Fire Falcon_ with only its gyro gone. We should be able to get them fully operational in no time."

Ian mused over the information for a while, then asked, "The clan jocks, are they injured?"

"Nope. They're in good condition, though their mood is sure in a funk right now! It took our boys quite a lot of med patches to get them, ahem, under control. The elementals were more cooperative. Good for them, at least."

Ian asked, "How's the rest of the fights going?"

"Not good. The gang got some licks in, but overall, I'd say we're on the losing end. Out of ten challenges today, we only got three, including your victory. The group off the _Nile_ won, but no surprise there. Rasouf's Rangers also won their fight, but she sez they're now more spare parts than combat machines."

Ian thought it was pretty good news, considering their limitations. "Three wins ain't so bad. At the very least, it means that the Falcons have lost at least command integrity for three binaries or trinaries. I can't imagine their leaders being too happy about that. Even better, none of the losing groups had the 'devices'. God knows what the Falcons would have made of them."

"Devices', as the machines which are the keys to the alien base situated somewhere on the planet. Before the batchall, the mercs had agreed to let only the better units safeguard the precious machines. Keeping them out of Falcon hands was high priority.

"But we have to assume they now know about the technology and its origins…"

"Not a problem. It's impossible to keep them in the dark anyway. There's simply too many ways for them to find out. The 'devices', they're the ones that really matter. The Falcons can't figure out how to use them if they don't have them."

"Hey, we have them, but we can't figure them out either!"

There was a pregnant pause, as Ian looked sternly at Pascal.

"Well, you and the rest of the tech boys had better figure them out soon! I've got a feeling we're gonna need an additional edge before this whole thing is over."

Walking away from the mech bay, Ian suddenly turned around, as he thought of an idea.

"Pascal, where are the clan troops now? I've got a few questions for them."

As Ian entered the makeshift brig of the dropship, he was greeted by a burly tech who was guarding the prisoners.

_Not prisoners_, _bondsmen_, Ian mentally corrected himself, as he returned the greeting.

Gesturing to the tech to open the door of the room where all the prisoners are, Ian stepped through cautiously.

Almost immediately, he was confronted by several walls of sheer muscle. Finding a superbly sculpted torso in front of his face, he craned his neck upwards to look the owner of the torso in the eye.

The face he found was cold and intense, with torrents of hate in the eyes. Staring into the other's eyes for long moments, he mentally willed his body to remain still, instead of obeying the dictates of his common sense, which was to retreat immediately from the room and come back with reinforcements later. The anger and rage in the room towards was a palpable force.

But he forced himself to stay in place and stare back. By not running, he was showing the Falcons that he was as much a warrior as they are. Different, perhaps, in his interpretation of honor, but a soldier of courage nonetheless. Angry as they were, they had to admire his bravery.

The face he was engaged in a staring contest suddenly broke into a tired smile. The eyes lost their anger, and the massive elemental suddenly shot out an arm and clapped Ian on the back, staggering him. Much of the tension in the room suddenly dissipated as well.

"Hah! I had hoped that it would be a true warrior who had defeated us, with real courage instead of the pansies we had expected of mercenary scum. I was glad to see that I was correct in my assessment." The big man announced.

Resisting the urge to rub his sore back, Ian gave him a smile in return. "I hadn't expected to get any sympathy anyway. Thanks for the vote of confidence. I came here to ask you troopers a few questions, as well as inquire as to your willingness to join my unit as warriors. Sure, we're mercs. But like all things in the galaxy, there's good mercs, and there's bad mercs. I assure you, we're on the side of the angels. We fight for money, we use dirty tricks, but we'll never wage war on civilians, nor seek to cause destruction without a damn good reason."

"That will depend on how you present your unit to us. The despicable behavior of the Greenhaven Gestapo had been drilled into us such that we automatically assume the worst of all mercenaries. Right now, we are willing to give you the benefit of the doubt."

"Thanks again, I think. Oh, I am Ian Dorlacen, CO of the Arch Lancers."

"And I am Drenner, formerly Star Commander of Bravo Star, Supernova Alpha of the 124th Stiker Cluster. I am the highest ranking officer to have survived the battle." He spoke without pride or shame, simply stating the facts.

"I have a few questions for you guys right now, if you don't mind my asking."

"We will try to answer them as best as we can. We are, after all, your bondsmen."

"How did your clan get here?"

"We jumped into the system on a jumpship, how else could we have gotten here?"

Ian slammed his palm against his forehead once, chiding himself silently for his stupidity, then continued. "Uhh, more exactly, how did you guys know about this system?"

"Ahhh, so that is what you meant just now. I am only a star commander, so I will not be honest if I said I knew all the details. In fact, none of us below the rank of star captain were told of the importance of this world, save that we are here for a very important mission that concerns the fate of our clan."

"So you don't know what's on this rock?"

"Not exactly." Drenner gave a wicked smile. "While command may be able to keep much of the details from us, in any military, only one thing travels faster than orders."

Ian did not have to think twice about that. "Rumors."

"Indeed. Well, to cut a long story short, I heard this from a tech who had a former colleague with a relative who was a scientist who was involved in the initial discovery. It turns out that there was a timed message in a data pack from a Brian Cache left over from the days of the Great Father. In it was contained wondrous information and scientific knowledge from the Star League, some of which was even beyond that of the clans. The coordinates of this world was also contained within, and Khan Pryde felt that chances were quite good that the planet would have even more such information."

"So, in short, it was a time capsule, right?"

Confusion showed on Drenner's face, "What is a time capsule?"

"A time capsule is a packet of information or data kept by people so that future generations may be able to come across it in the future and find out how things were like in older times."

"That is interesting. But it is time we asked you the same question of how you found this planet."

Ian quickly gave them the brief version of events that had led the motley band of mercenaries to Einstein. He then described the battle between the mercs and the _Spidercrabs_, as well as the subsequent discovery of Star League bases. He was careful not to mention the aliens, though. He was not sure how the clanners would take the news.

"So there are indeed Star League bases on this world. Our journey here might not be a waste of time after all!" A elemental exclaimed.

"But do any of you find it highly suspicious that all of us, both clan and inner sphere, would have stumbled onto this world at the same time?" Ian asked.

"You are right, it seems. Coincidence, I think not. Someone, or something, wants us all here for some nefarious purpose?"

"Who, indeed." Ian was now thinking furiously. Aliens, would be his first guess. But to what end? And why?

He shuddered. It was going to be a long campaign. Too many factors, too many possibilities now. He'll just take things one step at a time.

Ian stepped out of the brig after another ten minutes, followed by the clanners, all with a bondcord on their arms, in a considerably better mood than before.

The clan warriors had agreed to join the Lancers as support personnel first. If they liked what they saw, they would be immediately accepted into their new 'clan' as warriors, pending Ian's approval. Even Drenner had wanted to see more of the Lancers before he would make a decision. It was, in essence, a modified version of the clan bondsmen system.

Pascal approached Ian as he was getting the various clanners to their new rooms on the dropship and their tasks.

"Uh, boss?"

"Yeah?"

"We've just received a message from Rho Galaxy Command. They said they're sending more troops down after us, after the third day of battle. This time, it'll be a full Supernova Trinary."

Ian groaned. "Oh shit." He felt like slamming his head against a wall.


	13. Knowing The Enemy

_Warship _Blue Aerie_, In Orbit,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery,_

_6th March 3068_

"I am very disappointed in all of you." The anger in Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth's voice was unmistakable to the Jade Falcon officers sitting around the conference table. After the battles of the day, the Galaxy Commander had gathered her senior officers for a debriefing, as well as to plan the next day's attack.

Placing her hands on the table while standing, Lizabet leaned forward. "Three trinaries. Three _trinaries_ lost!" She shouted. "Against a pack of rabble money soldiers! And we've destroyed only seven units, the equivalent of two battalions! And some of these were not even mechs! What are your surat commanders thinking? Did they assume easy victories? A walk in the park? At the rate we are going, there won't be a Rho Galaxy left by the time we are finished! Who knows, we might even be the vanquished here!" She slammed her hands on the table to emphasize her point.

Star Colonel Mikos Roshak tried to mollify his furious commander. "Commander, there was no way we could have avoided those losses. Many of the troops are still unused to the dirty tricks the Inner Sphere freebirths employ. Certainly one of the losses was a result of a star captain following the rules of zellbrigen when his opponent offered to do the same…"

She waved off his explanation. "And it turned out to be a well timed trap. Star Captain Koliac was too naïve. And because of his error, he is now dead, and his entire Nova lost. It is very possible that his mechs have been salvaged by the Lancers, which makes them even more difficult to defeat the next time. I have already decided, Star Captain Daniela Mattlov will lead her Supernova against the Lancers on the fourth day, after defeating the remaining mercenary group remaining in her operations area. Her command was the only one not to have lost a single warrior in the day's battles, so I am giving her the task of facing the Lancers and regaining our lost honour."

"What about the group with the Dragoons?" Star Colonel Creed Mattlov asked. He was infuriated at the defeat of his warriors at the hands of poorly led mercenaries and a group of lowly tanks.

"The trinary that engaged them lost all its officers, so I am reassigning the surviving warriors to units that have suffered losses in the day. Despite their victory, all indications are that the Dragoons, and the other two mercenary units with them, are badly damaged as well. We cannot afford them too much time to recover. I want another trinary to go after them, one from the 124th Striker. After destroying the Dragoons and the Lancers, we will then be free to commit our best troops against the other rabble. So far, these are the most troublesome units to deal with."

"Galaxy Commander, about the aerospace support…"

"My orders have not changed. Only those units facing mercenaries with similar aerospace units will have their fighters. The remaining fighters will remain as a strategic reserve under Star Commodore Valten Folkner's command."

She paused. "One more thing, many of the battles tomorrow are star on lance battles. I expect nothing less than total victory this time. Dismissed."

As the Star Colonels filed out of the room, Valten Folkner, who had been standing impassively in a corner and watching the debriefing, unfolded his arms and sat down on one of the chairs around the conference table, giving Star Colonel Roshak an evil grin as the mechwarrior left the room.

He waited until the last Star Colonel had left the room before speaking.

"So, Galaxy Commander, what is your game?"

Lizabet blinked once, then recovered quickly.

"I have no idea what you mean."

Valten snorted. "You do not fool me. You had already suspected that this was what would happen. You knew that losses would be heavy, and some battles will be lost. You tempted them to lower their bids to dangerous levels, then sent them in without adequate air support. In short, you gave them enough opportunity to disgrace themselves. This is your intention, quiaff?"

"Aff. You are perceptive. I will be honest with you, because I may need your assistance soon. You must know that one of the Khan's motives in sending Rho Galaxy here was to relegate me to the ranks of the solahma after our success. I do not wish for such a fate, so I am forced to enact this plan that should enable me to retain my warrior status when we return."

He nodded. "By disgracing your subordinates, you remove them from running for the position of Galaxy Commander, and by commanding Rho Galaxy personally, crushing the mercenaries, you gain glory such that you can stay on as Galaxy Commander. Even better, by playing on your success and contribution to the clan by your victory here, you might even be able to challenge for the Khanship. Clever, very clever."

"And by saying all this, you are hoping to gain no small amount of credit as well, quiaff?" She did not wait for an answer. She did not have to. "Very well, if my plan succeeds, you will be well rewarded."

"Thank you. By the way, have you gone through the reports concerning the initial interrogation of the defeated mercenaries?"

"Aff. Only one commander survived, but the information we obtained was…most interesting. He claims that the Star League bases present were not just for research, but also to examine alien artifacts found here! I have never heard of such a presposterous claim!"

"I am not too sure of that. There is convincing evidence for his statements. The things he calls the _Spidercrabs_, for example. The scientists we have on world have examined the metal remains and said they had never seen such advanced drone technology before."

"They are just Star League discoveries which have yet to reach the glorious Star League. Of course, there may indeed be aliens about. But if so, they should already have appeared. No, this is just another Inner Sphere ploy to scare us away. No matter what, we will need to retrieve all the data and items recovered from the bases by the mechs to succeed in our mission."

The amount they did have after defeating some of the mercenaries had sent the scientists accompanying them into deep throes of ecstasy. All of them were currently so engrossed in their work that they were neglecting sleep and food in their relentless pursuit of knowledge. Already the lead scientist had informed her that it is entirely possible that some of the recovered research could have immediate military applications, once they managed to return to the homeworlds.

"Aff. It is too dangerous to stay in the hands of the Inner Sphere. We will need to wipe them out utterly. No word of this must pass to the other clans, or the Great Houses."

"So what about the four jumpships that escaped us?"

"I have sent the other ships in the fleet to some of the adjacent systems. So far, there has been no trace of the escaped ships. My guess is that they are still in system. I would wager my bloodname that they are currently hiding within the system's asteroid belt."

"Then search them out and capture them!"

"It is a huge expanse of space. It will not be easy, nor quick. They are certainly being cautious to keep their EM signatures to a minimum. The one thing in our favor is that they are unable to unfurl their jumpsails for energy collection, and must use their onboard reactors for recharging. It will certainly take them longer to achieve full charge this way, as they are sure to hot charge as slowly as possible to avoid damage to their jump coils."

"You have told me this before, so that leaves us with only four days at the most to find them before they escape."

"Neg. They will not escape, not without the mercenaries. From the reports I have just obtained from the questioning of the captured jumpship crews, the owner of those four elusive vessels is one Forsen Mandela. He is currently on the planet. I doubt that his ships, his personnel will leave the system without him."

"Which group of mercenaries is he with? What are our chances that we can capture him?"

Valten stared at her. "You would know the answer to that question best. He is with the Dragoons off the dropship _Nile_."

"Stravag! And how long have you known this?"

Valten smiled slyly. "Just before the briefing. It was not too important, so I did not mention it. One way or another, Forsen would have fallen into our hands, and so will his jumpships. It is just a matter of time. In fact, not defeating the Dragoons woiuld be better for us in the long run. If Forsen had been captured, there would not be any more reason for the jumpships to stick around. They will have jumped out as soon as possible. Trapping him on the planet for as long as possible gives us the time to seek out the jumpships. On the other hand, we must still exert some pressure on the mercenaries to force them to remain onworld, as well as to avoid suspicion of our true goals."

"And having your warship around will certainly keep them onworld, forcing them to defeat my Galaxy before they could leave. It seems that our plan is almost flawless. Not only will the clan prosper, but I may finally get the chance to cement my position as a warrior once and for all."

She hesitated for a while, pondering her next question.

"To confirm our alliance, and as a down payment for your aid, would you like to come to my quarters tonight?"

He did not have to think twice. "Aff. It should be…stimulating."

_The Goosebumps, Drop Zone Epsilon,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

Through the rapidly darkening skies, falling gradually into night, Star Captain Daniela Mattlov maneuvered her _Warhawk_ through the dense hills of the area the mercenaries had called the Goosebumps, for the sheer similarity of the area to its namesake when viewed from above. Up and down the hills, her assault Star harried the fleeing mercenaries as they fled towards the sanctuary of another mercenary unit that was just situated two hundred kilometers to the north. She used the name Goosebumps as well, for it was especially appropriate for this area.

Daniela did not intend for her prey to escape.

She had sent her star of fast lights in an encircling move that would bring them across the mercenaries' path in about two minutes. That should hold up the mercs enough for her star to arrive and destroy.

Moving in a wedge formation, the star of assault clan mechs steadily advanced past the Goosebumps. Composed of Daniela's _Warhawk_, two _Gargoyles, _a _Summoner_, and a _Night Gyr_, it could put out impressive firepower.

Soon enough, explosions could be seen in the distance, signifying the arrival and attack of the light star. Urging her star on, Daniela charged her PPCs and lasers, and ran a quick systems check on her targeting computer to ensure its proper operation. No mechwarrior would want to go into battle without an optimum mech performance.

Cresting the last hill separating the embroiled mercenaries and her mechs, she saw her light star ably holding off the mercs as they tried to break through to safety. With the arrival of her star, it was a vain hope.

None of the six mercenary mechs had been destroyed yet, but all had suffered different degrees of damage. Targeting the heaviest and least damaged mech, a deadly _Warhammer_, Daniela paused only to issue a short challenge before triggering her weapons. "Enemy _Warhammer_, this is Star Captain Daniela Mattlov. Prepare to be defeated." She fired her entire arsenal of PPCs and pulse lasers.

Almost immediately, the cockpit was suffused with a blast of hot air, as the mech's double heat sinks worked to vent the heat. Sweat broke out over her body, but true to her training, she was not distracted in the least by the discomfort.

Aided by the targeting computer, the _Warhawk_'s weapons punched into the _Warhammer_, removing three tons of armor in less than a second. Incredibly, the pilot of the _Warhammer_ managed to stay upright, and even snapped off two PPC shots in return.

One of the PPC hit the _Warhawk_ in the left shoulder, but the damage was negligible considering the amount of protection on the mech. Disregarding the range advantage of her mech over the _Warhammer_, Daniela closed in with her opponent. Meanwhile, the other mechs of her star moved in, those not involved in the zellbrigen taking up overwatch positions to prevent the escape of the mercs.

If the mercenaries had no idea of their predicament before, they certainly knew it now. Combining fire on two mechs of the light star, an _Adder_ and a _Kit Fox_, they tried to open a hole in the perimeter formed by the Falcons.

It was to no avail. Having broken the rules of zellbrigen, the mercs were only hastening the inevitable. The Falcon mechs, having been freed from the strict rules of dueling by the mercenaries' indiscretion, now combined fire to devastating effect.

All except the _Warhammer_, which Daniela had claimed for herself. Opting only to fire her two PPCs to bring her heat down to more manageable levels, she hit with only one, splashing armor off the _Warhammer_'s torso.

With the battle now occurring at medium ranges, the mercenaries were able to bring more of their weapons to bear. With the bulk of the mercenaries pressing hard against the Falcon line to the north, only the _Warhammer_ and a battered _Griffin_ were holding their rear against six Falcon mechs.

The _Griffin_ lasted for all of five seconds, as its armor was punctured in several places, the rest of the unexpended energy going on to shatter the internal structure. The fusion engine, broken in several places, released its energy in a ground shaking explosion. The poor _Griffin_ did not even get a reply shot off. The pilot did not eject.

The _Warhammer_ fared better, lashing out with its full arsenal of PPCs, lasers, and SRM packs as it went head to head with Daniela's _Warhawk_. Daniela had to struggle to keep the mech upright as all the shots hit, scouring armor all over the _Warhawk_. Thankfully, the wide dispersal of the damage meant that the mech was still relatively intact. Snarling her teeth in anger, she answered with a full salvo from her own weapons.

The _Warhammer_, already reeling from the damage inflicted by the Jade Falcon, simply stood no chance against such a potent display of clan weapon superiority. The PPCs stabbed into the heart of the mech, destroying its engine, while the pulse lasers blew both arms of the mech clean off. The pilot was smart enough to eject once the shots hit; there was no way he could have survived otherwise. Resisting the urge to blow apart the ejected pilot, and soon to be bondsman, Daniela turned her attention to the rest of the battle.

The other four mercenary mechs lasted for only a little while longer, their gambit to push to the north failing miserably. Taken apart by the concentrated firepower of the clanners, there was no other possible outcome.

For Star Captain Daniela Mattlov, it had been a long day.

Climbing down from the cockpit of her mech onto a nearby loading crane, Daniela Mattlov sighed heavily as she considered the task facing her and her unit in the coming days. The failure of Star Captain Koliac meant that her Supernova's tactical responsibility in the campaign had increased by as much as fifty percent. That meant less leeway for losses, both in terms of personnel and material.

Tall as a supermodel, and just as attractive, the blonde warrior had lost count of the number of times she had been approached for coupling. Even in the decidedly gender neutral and meritocratic society of the Clans, somehow many of the other male warriors she had met assumed that she got to where she was now by her looks, and not her ability as a warrior.

It always took a Circle of Equals to change their attitudes. Nobody repeated the same mistake after that. _That is if they were still alive by then,_ she thought wryly to herself.

After checking with her second in command about the current status of the bondsmen they had just 'accepted', she stepped into her makeshift office in the camp they had captured from the defeated mercenaries. It had not taken the support crews long to set it up according clan standards.

Currently occupied by a battered desk, probably belonging to the mercenary commander who was the previous user of this portable office, the room had a spartan feel about it, exacerbated by the presence of the only other piece of furniture in the room, a simple plastic foldable chair which could double as a bed in a clinch.

Nonetheless, it was all she had at the moment, and the computer sitting on the desk was to her an essential piece of equipment, indispensable for the checking of logistics, mission objectives and the like.

Tiredly plopping herself onto the chair, she began to write up a report of the day's actions. One thing that irked her greatly was the Galaxy Commander's insistence on having commanders typing up accurate reports themselves, rather than relying on lowly techs to do the job for them. The reason was to have full accountability for officers, but Daniela personally believed that it was to make life hell for junior officers.

_All the better to criticize for the higher ups, _she assumed. Nobody had such problems during the clan invasion, though the inflated reports then made life very difficult for the clan in the months after Tukayyid.

Having completed the report after an hour's hammering at the keyboard, she moved onto her next task, reading up the file on her next assignment, destroying the Arch Lancers. _Knowing is half the battle_, she reminded herself.

_Interesting, these mercenaries._ She thought as she read their records._ They do not lack skill, but they have managed to thrive in the madhouse of the Chaos March._

Daniela was atypical for a Jade Falcon in that she paid attention to the events in the rest of known space. Though the Chaos March was far from the Jade Falcons' present position, she believed that knowing the present situation would ease matters when the Khan finally unleashed them on the Inner Sphere.

She was particularly intrigued by the record of its commander, Major Ian Dorlacen. No mention was made of his place of birth, nor where he received his education. It stated that he trained as a mechwarrior with the Green Mountain Boys, but from what the Clan Watch had gathered of that unit from the captured jumpship personnel, she could not believe them capable of producing such a warrior.

From that assumption, she could only conclude that Dorlacen received his training elsewhere, or he actually succeeded despite the training he received. Either way, he would be a formidable opponent, and she certainly will not take him and his unit lightly.

_They probably specialize in unusual tactics. Star Captain Koliac was caught out by their unexpected use of zellbrigen, as well as their willingness to fight at ranges more advantageous to us. Let the opponents settle in, then 'pull the rug' from under them. Crafty._ Daniela knew that utmost caution must be held when fighting the Arch Lancers. _Who knows what other filthy inner sphere tricks they have?_ She realized that their experience in the Chaos March must have exposed them to plenty of innovative anti-mech tactics. In all likelihood, they have incorporated these tactics into their own.

_A slow cautious advance might be the best tactic to use._ Though that would leave her vulnerable to hit and run tactics, with proper use of terrain and her light mechs, that could be minimized. Pressing bit by bit, she could also exploit their range advantage to the utmost. Although her tactics may not go down well with her superiors, the taste of success is always sweet.

Most importantly, she knew that she could not fail. The fate of her clan rested on Rho Galaxy's ability to win this world.


	14. First Decisions

_Drop Zone Alpha,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

_7th March 3068_

Frank did not know how he should feel. Standing in the shadow of Deserk's _Black Hawk_ as the gathered mercenaries laid their dead to rest, he spoke words of condolence to those who had lost close friends and comrades, trying to assuage their pain.

But he was so _new_ to the unit, and he hadn't gotten to know the other Raiders well, much less the warriors of the tankers and the Dragoons. He could only utter words of comfort here and there, but he had no emotional stake in the first place, and this made him feel superficial, unneeded.

_Useless_.

He had not wanted to be head honcho for the whole stinking mess they were now in, but there was simply no one else suitable, with all their officers killed or in a coma. Well, except Deserk, but even he wasn't an officer, and the trueborn warrior had firmly refused to lead, pushing the responsibility onto Frank.

News of leadership was the last thing Frank needed when he woke up, trying to coax Captain Sheik back to life. He had succeeded, but she was still unconscious, and his last prognosis was not encouraging, with all signs indicating a long coma. Even in the 31st century, medical science had not progressed far enough to explain fully the intricacies of the human brain and the effects of damage on it.

Now, as the last taps of a tune of mourning played through a mech's speakers faded away, Frank walked up to Kily. The younger merc's eyes were a bit red and teary, and he held his head low. He had been very quiet the last few days, obviously shell shocked from the losses they had sustained.

"Kily, I'm sorry. You want to talk about it?" Frank was trying to get the _Commando_ pilot talking, get it all out of his system. Frank felt that as a veteran of the Fed Com Civil War, having seen countless friends die in combat, he had a much better handle on this sort of thing.

Kily glanced up to look at Frank before drooping his head down again. "Not your fault. Nothing we could do anyway." He sighed. "Before, all those missions in the Chaos March, they were fun, if not always as easy as we thought. But we came through more times I could remember without losing anyone. Now, now, in just a few days, we've lost so many! Captain Vansen always treated me well, although he regards me as a kid at times. Lieutenant Jenny looked after the entire recon lance like a big sister. Sure, she wasn't the best or the brightest, but she was still better than any of us. Falks was an asshole, but he was _our_ asshole. Deris, Patrick, I remember all the good times we spent together. It's all gone now, and we're gonna die on this freaking rock!"

Pursing his lips once, Frank then said, "Kily, I can't promise you anything. Heck, I don't think I'm even cut out for command in the first place. But I'm gonna do my best to get us out of here, so get your butt up and running again! Remember, we're mechwarriors. Soldiers. It's time for you to know that war has never been about fun and games. It's all about killing the enemy. Sitting in a mech, fighting against other mechs, it was easy to lose sight of that fact. But for the clanners, they have never forgotten it. And now you're going to do the same." He stared at Kily, silently challenging him to rise to the task at hand.

"Yeah, that's what war is all about, huh? Guess you're right. But I don't have to like it. The sooner we get off, the better." He started for the dropship. "Well, I'd check on the mechs now. You coming?"

Frank nodded encouragingly. "You go on ahead. I still have some people to talk to."

Predictably, Deserk was with the other Dragoons, standing at parade rest as they watched Frank approach. Dressed in mechwarrior attire, Deserk had been on guard duty for the last four hours, but did not seem tired at all.

"Sir." Deserk gave a sharp salute as Frank walked up to him. By silent consensus, he had become the representative for the Dragoon contingent and Frank's right hand man. Frank certainly wondered why the vastly more experienced warrior had passed up the chance for command. With everything that was going on, there had not been enough time for him to discuss the issue with Deserk.

There was enough time now.

"Deserk, there's no need for you to salute me. Hell, I'm not really an officer anyway. Never gone through an academy, never been through OCS, etc, etc. Right now, I'm just in temporary command till Captain Sheik wakes up. Everybody else is doing okay. I have to say this is about the best place to get injured. No chance of septic wounds here."

One good thing that Frank had realized when treating the wounded was that the special circumstances of the environment had actually been a boon to medical care. The lack of local pathogens meant that there was no danger of wounds getting infected. This also enabled the mercs to save up on the use of antibiotics and drugs that might have further hurt the injured. Splints and bandages were all that were required. There were not that many injured in the first place, Frank reminded himself. Most of the casualties were dead.

"You might not have received any official training, but nonetheless you acquitted yourself well. When Captain Vansen went down, you managed to come up with a plan to defeat the enemy in just a few moments. Even better, you had the will to give the orders and convince the others to follow the plan. Let me ask you. Did you worry about whether the orders you gave will be followed?"

"Uh, no."

"Did you even think about it?"

Frank scratched one arm distractedly. "No."

"In other words, it was instinctive, quiaff?"

Raising an eyebrow, Frank asked, "Was it really instinct? I thought it was more fear and adrenaline…"

"Mere fear and adrenaline would not have allowed you to think clearly. It was something else, and that something else is what defines leaders and followers."

Frank paused, his brows arching towards each other. "If you know so much, why didn't you take command?"

Deserk sighed. "I may know about command, but knowing and doing are two very different things. I was briefly a Star Commander in the Nova Cats before I was taken as a bondsman, and in truth my performance then was abysmal. That convinced me to remain as a common warrior. I do not have the ability to lead, but you do."

"And that's why you refused the job. Ok, so I know why you refused, but still, at this moment I can't think of our next step. What sort of leader is the sort who can't come up with a plan?"

"You need time to plan. And you have to relax. At this moment, I can tell you that I have absolutely no idea of what to do next, so I'm afraid you'll have to figure this one out on your own."

In the medical lab that served as his makeshift office, Frank assessed his options. After talking with Deserk, he had a short meeting with Forsen Mandela. The transport owner had been adamant that some way of getting past the Warship be found. This made Frank a bit suspicious.

Forsen had never mentioned the number of jumpships that had been captured, nor did he state where the remainder was. As Frank mused over this lack of information, it did not take him long to realize the truth.

The jumpship owner wanted to get past the Warships so he could get to his remaining jumpships, which are probably in a secure location somewhere in system. He had wanted the mercs to engage the Falcons just to buy time for his ships to recharge their drives.

He was buying his escape with their lives.

Frank felt his anger rising as he considered his conclusion. That bastard had fooled the mercs into fighting just so he could escape later!

It was all he could do just to hold himself in place and not run off to place a few well-aimed laser blasts into Forsen's head. Deep down, Frank knew that he would have done the same, if he had been in the merchant's shoes. But it did not make him feel any better.

It was a moot point anyway. The warship in orbit effectively isolated the mercenaries from reaching deep space. According to the unit records they received from the batchall, the Falcons had more than a hundred omnifighters in reserve, making off planet movement impossible.

_Concentrate on the ground battles, Frank. The Falcon troops are the most immediate threat. We can win this._ But it was going to be tough. He knew the Falcons were going to send another detachment against them soon, possibly in two days time. In fact, the latest challenge from the Falcons had said so.

Looking at his battered force, Frank had serious doubts about the combined Dragoon/Raider unit's chances of holding out successfully against another frontline binary, this time from the 7th Falcon Regulars.

There were some encouraging signs, though. The recovery of some clan mechs would enable them to fight the clanners on a more even footing.

Without a doubt, the prize of the salvage was the 75 ton _Night Gyr_, which he would probably claim as his command mech, replacing his wrecked _Grasshopper_. After all, it was one of his missiles that opened a breach in the cockpit for the napalm of the inferno missiles to get through and fry the pilot. And the crew of the SRM carrier that fired the infernos were not going to dispute his claim for one simple reason: they were dead. Still, Frank shuddered when he thought of how the clan pilot and his killers had died, as they were burned alive by hot napalm.

Next was a 80 ton _Man O' War_. Its legs had been shot off by the Dragoons, but had since been recovered and reattached. Armed with dual PPCs and lasers, it offered great promise as an extended combat mech.

The 45 ton _Fenris_ was yet another excellent piece of salvage. The techs had to cannibalize leg actuators from the _Phoenix Hawk_ to restore the mech back to combat status, but Frank had felt it was worth the cost.

Finally there was the 35 ton _Puma_. It had been a simple matter for the techs to retrofit a new cockpit using materials from the other fallen omnimechs. With a deadly clan targeting computer paired with PPCs, it packed the punch of a medium mech in a light mech chassis.

Running his eyes over the personnel lists, Frank tried to reorganize his forces as best he could. One luxury he had over other commanders on planet was the sheer surplus of mechs available. With 13 mechwarriors and 19 mechs, Frank was tempted to just shift every warrior into the heaviest mechs available.

Problem was, pilots would take time to adjust to new mechs. No one in his right mind would expect a mechwarrior used to jockeying assaults to suddenly dart around in a light with equal skill.

Yet another problem was that many of the mechs were actually in bad condition. The _Enforcer III_ especially, and some other mechs, were more spare parts than combat machines.

Frank decided to start from scratch. First, the recon lance.

_Who to put in charge?_ Frank wondered. It was down to Kily and two Dragoon warriors, Patrice and Bryan Dunn. Patrice pilots a _Talon_, while Bryan's _Uller_ was destroyed in the battle. Judging from the records, Bryan's experience in scouting made him the best choice to command the recon lance. Accordingly, the _Fenris_ should go to him. Frank decided to replace Pash's _Wasp_ with the _Puma_, simply to add more survivability to the overall force and because he wanted the _Puma _in the battle lance.

The final reconstituted recon lance consisted of Bryan's _Fenris_, Kily's _Commando_, Patrice's _Talon_, and Lee's _Spider_. To Frank, with both speed and firepower, it was a virtual quantum upgrade from the old Raider recon lance.

Next came the battle lance. With 13 warriors available, Frank opted for a 4-5-4 company mix, with the battle lance having an extra mech to give it greater punch in battle. Putting Tim Fowler in Jadine's repaired _Gunslinger_ and Gerhard Kahn in the salvaged _Man O'War_, Frank wanted the battle lance to take the brunt of any action against the clans and minimize the command lance's vulnerability to first strikes. The other members were Geenan in a battered _Vindicator_, lance commander Kety in his _Gallowglas_, and Pash in the _Puma_. The biggest problem Frank could see with his setup was whether Tim and Gerhard could adjust to the cutting edge assault machines in time. These were far cries from the 3025 mediums they had used for years in the Chaos March.

The command lance would have the remaining warriors. Frank had to stop himself from drooling whenever he thought of the _Night Gyr_. It was the finest war machine he had ever laid his eyes on. It was a bit slow for a modern heavy mech, but it had massive amounts of firepower.

Deserk would effectively act as his second in his _Black Hawk_, while Liase and Qing retained their postings and their mechs.

The end result was what Frank hoped would enable them to hold out against the Falcons. The inclusion of clan mechs was easily the best thing that could have happened to the mercs. Frank was sure that even with 13 upgraded or new designs, they would have gotten thrashed by the clans. The clan mechs will make all the difference.

_Well, what next?_ Looking at his list of 'things to do', a post-it stuck on a nearby wall, Frank sighed. Figuring out the order of battle was a cakewalk compared to trying to worm out the location of the alien base.

According to the information in the databases that had not been wiped from the records, the most probable spots for the base was somewhere in the mountains. After all, the Star League itself had a tendency to place its own depots in places that were hard to get at, and that often meant deserts and mountains.

Glancing at his own topographic maps from the dropship scanners, Frank carefully marked out areas of high elevation, including two areas where there were ground at sea level but surrounded by lower ground. To him, they looked like craters with a plateau in the middle.

Even with the relative lack of elevated areas compared to say, Terra, Frank still ended up with twenty possible areas for the location of the alien base. Checking each site out was, in the current situation, simply impossible.

Of course, Frank could inform the other merc leaders, but he was sure that they were in deep trouble themselves and were concentrating hard on the clan threat. The fact was that even if they found the base, they had no way of getting in without figuring out how the six 'key' machines worked.

Frank prided himself on being a scientist, but the technology and science involved was clearly out of his field. Possibly a jumpship engineer or a physicist could decipher its function, but there weren't any with them right now.

_And probably not until we can get rid of that warship in orbit._ Frank though grumpily. It seemed to him that most of his problems were tied to one another, resulting in a jumbled mess that he had no way of disentangling.

Only two other merc groups had won their engagements of the day before, and on this very day, at this very moment, fifteen lance or dual lance sized units were fighting against two, three or even a star of clan mechs. Frank did not fancy their chances.

The one bright spot was that the Falcons would not be able to get their hands on any of the 'key' machines as well, which are in the possession of the larger and better armed units.

Which led Frank to worry about the 'key' machines. So far, none of them had fallen into the Falcons' hands, but their luck was not likely to hold for much longer. It was becoming clear to Frank that the best chance of ensuring that they retain possession of the devices was to get the best merc groups together.

Linking up was going to be a problem here. The Falcons were controlling the aerospace envelope, and any dropship movement was likely to be contested by their fighters. The captain of the _Nile_ had explained that low atmospheric movement was the best they could do at the moment, and even then they would be opposed by Falcon fighters.

_But these fighters weren't part of the batchall…_ It suddenly occurred to Frank that he could legitimately claim movement to another part of the planet to link up with other merc units. After all, it should not matter to the Falcons _where_ the mercs are, because they would have to be dealt with sooner or later anyway. Getting them into fewer large groups might even be advantageous to the clanners instead.

If Frank could convince the Falcon commanders to allow him to relocate, his very first choice for a linkup would be Rasouf's Rangers. They had won their battle, but were left more scrap machines than mechs. The Falcons had apparently decided that the Rangers were no longer a threat with their heavy losses, and thus did not bother to issue another challenge. By getting to the Rangers and resupplying them with his surplus functional mechs, not only would the Rangers be grateful to him, he would also strengthen the overall mercenary position on planet by making them a threat to the Falcons again.

Most importantly, he could secure a second 'key' machine, which he planned to demand from Captain Rasouf in exchange for the mechs.

After that, he planned to meet up with the Arch Lancers. The Lancers had apparently beaten off the Falcons easily, which meant to Frank that they were in good shape and probably had ended up with some good salvage of their own. Frank hoped to get Major Ian Dorlacen on his side, and also to scout out the possible alien base sites.

All this was dependent, however, on the two groups surviving their battles with the Falcons in two days time.

_The alien intelligence at the bottom of the ocean was intrigued. Yes, much intrigued by the sprawling conflict occuring on the surface. It could identify two factions, but the deployment and forces used made no sense to it. Even more incredibly, they belonged to the same species!_

_To the AI, there seemed to be no apparent move by any of the forces involved to locate the hidden depot, all seemingly more interested in destroying each other instead. It was clear, however, that the devices used to open the doors have been claimed by the combatants, though they were currently all held by the first faction._

_This was very disappointing to the AI. It had hoped that the newcomers would be able to decipher the technique to open the depot doors like those three hundred years ago, and allow it to get inside and plunder its riches, as laid down by its constructors millenia ago._

_The AI knew some of the components needed to open the doors, but not all of it. Even after scrutinizing the remnants of the first human colonies on the world, it was unable to formulate a way to open the door._

_It had its chance three hundred years ago, but it had failed miserably. The humans had fought tenaciously then, just denying its own forces access to the depot doors. It had then settled for destroying and occupying their bases, hoping this would lure out those inside the depot to come out to rescue their comrades._

_After several revolutions of waiting, there was no response from the base at all. The AI concluded the entry team must have been wiped out by internal defenses inside the depot._

_It was not about to repeat the same mistake of three hundred years ago again. Giving orders to some of its vassal ships near the depot, it moved them to near the depot. This time, if the humans managed to open the doors, it would not hesitate to attack with overwhelming force to force an entry into the depot._

_In addition, it sent out a tachyon signal out into space, where it had forces ready to deal with the human vessels in space._

_It then settled down to wait. It had already waited for a long time. It could afford to wait some more. Patience came easily to a machine…_


	15. Enter The Prodigy

_Whining Pines, Drop Zone Phi,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

_9th March 3068_

Major Ian Dorlacen was sure things could be better for his unit. Facing a full Supernova Trinary of clan trueborns was not going to be beneficial to the well-being of _any_ Inner Sphere merc unit under _any_ conditions.

As he guided his _Awesome_ past the dense foliage of the forest they had dubbed the Whining Pines for the sounds that are emitted from the trees at night, he checked on the condition of the very special surprises he had prepared for the Falcon commander.

Able to field only eleven mechs, due to Dean Giggs' injury status, he knew he was definitely outgunned. The replacement of a _Mad Cat_ for a _Marauder_ and the two new light clan mechs for the recon lance helped, but was still inadequate in terms of matching the sheer firepower of a full trinary of clan mechs.

He had just the trick up his sleeve, though.

He had sent his vehicles onto a long flanking movement which he hoped would draw off a clan nova at the very least. Moving his mech forward, he led the rest of his company deeper into the forest, cautiously seeking sensor readings.

Star Captain Daniela Mattlov was not sure of her adversary's actions, but the movement detected by her scouts were quite obviously a ploy to draw off part of her forces.

While she hated to play into her opponent's hands, in this case she could not ignore them either. The reports from the first battle gave the vehicle unit of the Lancers a high danger rating. So she sent out a fast mech and elemental Nova to deal with the upstart vehicles.

She was still quite confident of victory in any case. It was her ten omnimechs and fifty elementals against at most twelve mechs and a company of paltry infantry. A complete mismatch, in her mind.

Even better, the battle would probably be in the forest, restricted terrain where her elementals could excel.

Despite this, she still felt uneasy. In fact, it felt _too_ easy. She resolved to stay alert for any hidden traps.

_Drop Zone Alpha,___

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

Frank Meronac was ecstatic in his new mech. The _Night Gyr_, a cutting edge omnimech that had just rolled off the assembly lines only a few years before, epitomized the concept of the clan heavy ominmech. Armed to the teeth with deadly weaponry, it was capable of taking on entire Inner Sphere medium lances on its own.

Moving around the trees in a wedge formation with the rest of his company, he prepared for the imminent arrival of the Jade Falcon binary that was sent down to wipe them off Einstein once and for all.

Checking in with the rest of his company, he was relieved to hear that Tim and Gerhard were settling in well with their new lancemates and their new mechs. But obviously _nobody_ would mind having to pilot more than seventy five tons of cutting edge combat technology.

_His company_. Even now, the words sounded funny to him. Here he was, a doctor trained in the finest institution in the Inner Sphere, now leading a group of hardened mercenaries into combat against the finest warriors humanity possessed, on a world in the deep reaches of space, with the knowledge of entire civilizations at stake.

He dearly wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but the knowledge of the defeats and deaths of the previous days stopped him. One key machine had fallen into the Falcons' hands, and more than two battalions of mercs had been wiped out.

Things were not looking good.

_Pirate Jump Point,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

At a pirate point that neither the mercs nor the Falcons knew about, a jumpship flashed into existence in a storm of incandescent colours.

On its hull, an insignia of a scorpion on a yellow field could be seen.

An aerodyne dropship detached away from the jumpship. Its thrusters blazing, it set a course for the planet where a vast struggle for dominance of its treasures was being waged.

Where the fate of humanity could be decided for all time.

Clan Goliath Scorpion had entered the fray.

It did not go unnoticed.

_Warship _Blue Aerie_, In Orbit,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

"Star Commodore!" The Star Captain responsible for communications and sensors called out for her superior officer, who quickly strode to her station. "We have a jump in-system at a pirate point at coordinates Eta six niner. From the electromagnetic readings, it is probably a modified _Hunter_ class jumpship, used by Clan Goliath Scorpion. The contact has released a dropship, probably _Broadsword_ class. It is heading for the planet, sir." She paused, waiting for Valten Folkner's reaction.

"Put us on red alert. Inform Galaxy Commander Danforth and get her to the bridge ASAP. Helm, steer us on an intercept course with the dropship." He bellowed.

A chorus of ayes was the response. Moments later, red sirens and klaxons were dishing out their usual cacophony of light and sound.

A dull thrum could be sensed from the bowels of the massive Warship, as it started to accelerate towards its target.

"Sir!" A flustered officer shouted for attention just as Lizabet Danforth entered the bridge, looking slightly miffed at the sudden interruption of her observation of the development of the day's battles.

The officer continued, "Navigation says that the dropship is moving too quickly for us to intercept. Estimated time of entry into the planetary atmosphere is in two minutes."

Valten Folkner was not the least deterred. "What about our fighters? How long will it take for the CAP to engage?"

"Neg, sir. The fighters are already on an intercept course, but they will not make it in time. I am sorry, Star Commodore, but we were caught flat footed."

"The jumpship?" In truth, he already knew the answer.

"Jumped out almost immediately after losing the dropship. They must have calculated the pirate points precisely. They must also already had navigational data on the system."

"Open a channel to the dropship!"

He waited for the comms officer to indicate an open channel before speaking.

"This is Star Commodore Valten Folkner of Clan Jade Falcon, you are trespassing on Falcon territory. Identify yourself!"

Static accompanied the reply. "And this is Star Captain … of Clan Goliath Scorpion. We are not … that the Falcons have claimed this … for themselves, so you can hardly blame us if you did not bother to … out notices. We are just here to …, nothing more."

"Do you wish for a Trial of Possession for this world, quiaff?" Lizabet suddenly cut in.

From the reply, the static interference was getting worse. "Neg. … am a Seeker of …. I … desire to claim … world for my clan. I … told …, a warrior … relics of the lost Star …. And … tell me, … are you … doing here …?"

Just as they were about to respond, the connection was lost.

"They have entered the atmosphere. The ionisation of the hulls is preventing us from communicating. We'll have to wait for at least five minutes before we are able to regain the connection." The warrior grimaced as Valten glared at him for use of a contraction.

Turning to Lizabet, he saw on her the same bemused look that he was sure was also on his own face.

_Whining Pines, Drop Zone Phi,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

Ian cursed as the PPC blast he had just triggered fizzled just wide of his target, a _Night Gyr_.

All along the line, his company was slowly giving up ground. A high premium was placed on evasive action rather than accurate shot placement, as the Falcons unleashed a storm of autocannon fire and missiles that threatened to shatter his battle line.

The elementals made matters even worse, as they forced his mechs to keep their distance. Already he had almost lost his _Rifleman_ to the little toads, but it was saved in the nick of time when Ian managed to blast off the toads with his PPCs.

It was only a matter of time before one of his people went down, and _that_ was definitely not part of his plans. At the same time, he could not disengage too quickly, lest the enemy smell a trap.

The _Night Gyr_ fired a volley of LRMs at him, half of which smashed into the thick armour on the _Awesome_'s torso. Easily getting his mech under control under the punishing salvo, Ian replied with three PPC shots, of which two hit. One on the left arm, and one on the right leg. Hardly cause for celebration, but the _Night Gyr_ manoeuvred away, clearly wary of the _Awesome_.

_We have to split their force again_, he thought. Getting his shorthanded command and recon lances to one side, and his fire lance to the other, all the while under intense fire from the Falcons, he waited for the Falcon commander's response.

And was elated when she further split her forces.

Daniela had no idea what the surat Spheroid was thinking. He had split his forces once more, baiting her to do the same.

While she could refuse to do the same, and go after each portion of the mercs with her full two Novas, her honour dictated otherwise.

Cursing her own clan bred sensibilities, she sent her striker Nova after the four mech element, while she continued to attack the heavy element with the _Mad Cat_. Even outnumbered seven to five in mech strength alone, the star of elementals in her Nova more than made up for the lack.

_Drop Zone Alpha,___

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

Frank lost all concern for tactics and strategy the moment the battle started. He simply led the Dragoon/Raider force straight into the Falcon binary. After all, he had never trained for tactics and the like, and he didn't trust himself to execute complex plans which more often than not result in spectacular failures. So, a simple charge into up close and personal range. He had been very grateful when the rest of the mercs followed him in.

Which was exactly the opposite of what the Falcons had expected. They had anticipated another long range slugging match, with perhaps a few fades and retreats along the way to pull them into more filthy ambushes.

Never in their wildest dreams could they have expected the mercenaries to simply charge into their midst, abandoning all pretence of a coherent battle plan in favour of something more akin to a clan melee.

Frank grinned as his ultra heavy autocannon cut down an enemy _Ice Ferret_. Its centre supports completely blasted through, the light mech collapsed to the ground as an explosive burst erupted from its head, as the pilot ejected from the dead mech. All around him, the mercs were giving as good as they got, the clanners' superior range having been negated by the vicious close in fighting.

Out of a corner of his eye, he saw Deserk's _Black Hawk_ go up on blazing jumpjets, unleashing its full arsenal of PPCs onto a hapless _Thor_, which was being pummelled by Liase' _Battlemaster_'s gigantic fists.

Kily's _Commando_ had collided with a huge _Dire Wolf_, losing its arm but felling the assault mech in the process. Lee finished off the clanner by igniting his jumpjets and landing directly on top of the threshing Falcon as it struggled to regain its feet in a risky DFA attack, emerging with barely functional legs on his _Spider_.

Bryan in his _Fenris_ faced down a _Black Lanner_, both mechs exchanging violent volleys of fire before disengaging due to excessive battle damage. The _Black Lanner_ limped away from the battle, ignored by the rest of the mercs as they tried to bring down their own opponents. Bryan likewise signalled to Frank his retreat from the field.

A menacing _Turkina_ fired its banks of energy weapons at Tim's _Gunslinger_. Riding out the damage, Tim replied with his Gauss rifles, the solid slugs smashing into the Falcon mech's right leg, stripping away much of its armour on that limb. His lasers went all over the place, with only one hitting the _Turkina _on the left side.

Qing's _Marauder_ battled with its clan relative, a _Mad Cat_. Obviously outmatched, Qing nevertheless soaked up the damage as he closed, and went into a kicking and punching contest with the omni. It was obvious he was on the losing end, though.

Geenan and Kety ganged up on a _Loki_, easily tearing it apart in less than half a minute with little damage to their mechs.

_Almost too easy, _Frank realized with a start.

_Whining Pines, Drop Zone Phi,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

Ian reversed his mech as he fired off one more alpha strike at the massive _Masakari _that had almost removed all the torso armour on his _Awesome_ since the split in his forces. Despite this, he had given a good accounting of himself, blowing away one of its arms with a concentrated burst of PPC fire earlier on. The heat buildup in his mech was soon reaching unbearable levels after several minutes of continuous PPC firing, though, and he yearned for a chance to cool down.

Meanwhile, his seven mech element continued to withdraw deeper into the forest, towards an area where the heavy, thick set trees are about fifteen to twenty metres tall. His mechs had suffered various degrees of damage, and he recognised that attrition would claim a mech soon if the battle continued.

The elementals continued to pester his mechs, drawing valuable fire away from the clan omnis as they tried to close in.

The _Masakari_ whipped out with its own dual PPCs, easily matching the power of Ian's four PPCs. The shots went into his legs, thankfully denuding only more armour.

_Almost there now_, he gritted his teeth. As a _Man O'War_ took a step towards one of his mechs, Ian finally sprung his trap.

Giving the codeword over the open channel, he yelled, "Avalanche!"

Suddenly, the treetops bristled with men and anti-mech launchers. At an elevated height, the infantry troopers of the Arch Lancers had a undisputed advantage over the elementals of the Falcons. They had hid for several long hours, and were eager to loosen their muscles with some choice targets.

Daniela slammed her fists on her command panel in frustration. After twenty minutes of hard battle, the crafty mercs had managed to turn the tables yet again, just when she was sure victory was within her grasp.

The _Warhawk_ shuddered as several hand launched SRMs slammed into its shoulder. The mech had been badly hurt in its duel with the _Awesome_ that Daniela was sure held the enemy mech commander. Even in a lighter mech equipped with only the most basic of mech technology, the enemy warrior had managed to hold his own and even severed the left arm of the _Warhawk_, no mean feat for a Spheroid.

The surat infantry had fired off dozens of support weaponry in their initial attack, downing many elementals and unbalancing her mechs. She was astounded at the sheer variety of support weapons now unleashed on her troops.

Support gauss cannons, pulse cannons, man pack PPCs, one shot LAWs, and the like were being propelled from the treetops with a vengeance, as the Falcons quickly backtracked to regroup their forces and get away from the infantry infested trees.

The mercenary mechs were not in any mood to indulge them, however, counterattacking the Falcons with a strong push led by the _Timber Wolf_.

The clanners did not just let the infantry take pot-shots at them without retaliation. Firing their own weapons, including a flamer, they smashed infantry positions on at least four trees.

Injured and dead soldiers pummelled to the ground, some with their bodies and uniforms burning. Mere leaves and wood were no protection against the incredible might of mech class weaponry.

The enraged mercs seemed to throw caution to the wind as they charged forward, heedless of the damage they had taken, lasers and missiles springing out to engulf the Falcons in a series of hits.

Firing her PPCs at the _Timber Wolf_, Daniela cursed as both shots missed, the particle bolts going deeper into the forest. Checking her systems, she was stunned to discover that her targeting computer had been damaged, the likely cause of her miss a while ago.

A lull settled in as both sides bunkered down, ready to fend off any further attacks.

She knew that in terms of material and personnel losses, the battle was essentially a stalemate. The Falcons had suffered too much damage to assume an offensive posture, while the mercenaries were likewise too damaged to press home their attack.

She opened a channel to the _Awesome_.

_Drop Zone Alpha,___

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

Frank turned his _Night Gyr_, placing his targeting sights over the _Mad Cat _that had just sent Qing's _Marauder_ sprawling to the ground with a broken leg.

Thumbing his trigger, Frank sent a storm of depleted uranium shells at the clan heavy, tearing huge chunks of armour off the legs, neatly depositing it on the ground as it succumbed to the same fate as the _Marauder_ it had just deposed of. Frank thought it a delicious irony.

Save for Qing and Bryan, who had pulled back for refitting, the rest of the mercs were still in the thick of the action, while the clanners were slowly succumbing to the mercs.

The _Thor_ had been eliminated after Liase managed to land a solid blow against the cockpit, followed by Deserk's _coup de grace_ as he fired a PPC at the prone, immobile mech's cockpit.

Stunned by the loss of one whole star of mechs in such a short time, the Falcons fought clear of the mercs using their superior speed, but suffering more damage in the process.

Frank ordered his troops to let the clanners go, and was about to open a transmission to the Falcon commander when he was pre-empted.

"This is Star Captain Harga of Clan Jade Falcon. You have fought well for lowly mercenaries. May I know who your commander is?"

Lowering his jaw to activate the transmission mike in his neurohelmet, Frank said, "I'm Frank Meronac, commander pro-tem of the combined unit in the absence of Captain Jadine Sheik. Surely you did not want to talk to me just to send your congratulations?"

"Aff. I wish to talk to you to offer you a choice. Surrender now, or face the consequences."

Frank was aghast. He could not believe his ears. "We outnumber you two to one, and you're asking us to surrender? Are you joking?"

"Neg." The answer came back, with a tinge of anger now. "As you should know, clan commanders are allowed to bring in their last bid with some loss of honour. My last bid was my entire trinary, which I cut down to just a binary, the one you now face. I have underestimated your abilities, and I apologise for any loss in honour on your part. Though I value my honour, I value success even more."

"To that end, I am forced to bring in my last bid, containing the forces of my Alpha Strike Star. You cannot possibly stand against another star of heavy mechs, fresh and undamaged. Surrender, and you will be treated well as bondsmen. You have my word."

Frank was stunned. _Another star of mechs!_ As proud as he was of what he had just achieved, he knew their chances of victory were extremely slim.

He had no desire to be a bondsman of Clan Jade Falcon either, something that he was sure the rest of the company agreed on.

Frank began to run through his options on his onboard computer.

_Warship _Blue Aerie_, In Orbit,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

"_Where is that stravag dropship_?" Star Commodore Valten Folkner was getting irate, his temper rising to its typical boiling condition. Understandably, since the sensors on the warship _Blue Aerie_ had lost track of the dropship just after it entered atmosphere.

Not at all what one would expect of clan technology. Therefore, the blame would most likely fall on the long suffering crew of the warship. Even if they were working as fast as they possibly could to get the location of the Goliath Scorpion ship.

"They must have landed already! Switch to terrain scanning sensors!" Valten was exasperated at his crew's lack of initiative. It was plain to him that if the dropship could not be detected in the skies of the planet below, then it must be on the ground. He reminded himself to intensify drills for the crew once they returned to clan space.

"Sir, we have it!" A crewmember shouted. "The dropship landed twenty miles north of challenge site Alpha!"

Lizabet narrowed her eyes as she heard this, feeling an ominous sense of disaster come upon her.

"Inform Star Captain Harga of this new development," she told her tactical officer, "I want his Alpha Strike star to investigate the dropship landing. If possible, challenge the Scorpions in a Trial of Grievance; I do not want them getting anywhere near the mercs."

"Too late, Galaxy Commander. It seems that someone from the dropship has already engaged Alpha Strike star!"

_Whining Pines, Drop Zone Phi,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

Ian could barely believe his ears. The Falcon commander was offering him hegira!

It was his best option right now. There was no way he was going to press the attack, and apparently the Falcon commander was in the same situation.

"What say you, Major Ian? Are you willing to accept this stalemate for what it is? Let us return to our bases, repair our damage, and reclaim our dead. Let us settle this battle another day."

The voice was clearly feminine, but carried a ring of authority that impressed Ian. He knew that he was unlikely to get a better offer, and he did not want a bloodbath if he could help it.

"Aff. Hegira it is. On one condition." He paused for her reply.

"Name it."

"That one day we will get to resolve who is the better warrior, in mechs of equal ability."

He heard her give out a hearty laugh over the speakers as the Falcon mechs pulled back from the forest. "Done!"

Leading the tattered mechs of his company from the battlefield, Ian silently promised himself that he would prevail if that day ever came.

_Drop Zone Alpha,___

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

Plain out of ideas, Frank had resigned himself to a final all or nothing charge, straight into the guns of the Falcon mechs. Bringing the _Night Gyr_ up to its full running speed, he led the remainder of the combined Raider/Dragoon force in a headlong dash into the clan star.

In his mind, their only chance would be to put the star that had just disengaged out of action before the fresh troops arrive. If they could maintain two to one odds, there was just the chance that they might be able to wrest victory away from the Falcons.

Harga was not stupid, however. As soon as he knew the mercs were not going to surrender, he began moving his star in the direction of his reinforcements.

Disregarding any attempt to delay the mercs, the Falcons simply ran off at top speed, with the mercs close behind, turning the battle into a footrace. The greater overall speed of the Falcons gave them a crucial advantage, though. 

Frank wanted to send his light mechs forward to slow down the Falcons, but at the same time he knew that sending them would be akin to sentencing them to death. The firepower of clan mechs, no matter how damaged, was still sufficient to pound most light mechs into the ground.

So he kept his company together, and hoped that they would be able to deal with a full binary of clan mechs when the battle was joined once more. Leaving the forest behind them as they emerged onto the plains, the Falcons increased their lead over the mercs.

Frank swore bitterly. There was no way he was going to get the damaged star now. It would be a straight slugging match between his company and ten clan omnimechs.

Fording a small river, he could see sensor contacts in two kilometres. Charging his lasers and checking the condition of his autocannon for the last time, he burst into range of enemies, ready for combat, but not the sight which greeted him.

An _Executioner_ laid on the ground with its limbs all separated from the mech's body, while a _Vulture _slumped in ruins not far from it. There was no sign of the Falcon mechs, but there _were_ mechs in the area.

Directly facing them were two omnimechs, a cat shaped mech his identification program called a _Nova Cat_ and a more conventional _Ryoken_. Their colours were black and silver, definitely not those of the Falcons, who tend towards green and yellow.

"Stay loose, guys! Let's not start anything we might regret later." He cautioned the mercs as he inched the _Night Gyr_ forward.

Likewise, the _Nova Cat_ started forward as well, halting five hundred metres from Frank.

Frank spoke first. "This is Frank Meronac, of Vansen's Raiders. May I inquire as to your intentions?"

A deep growl not unlike Deserk's came over the comms. The aggression was tempered by a slight tinge of humour, as though the warrior was enjoying a private joke at Frank's expense. "This is Star Captain Descartin Winters of Clan Goliath Scorpion. I am here to…"

He was suddenly cut off as Deserk interrupted.

"Descartin? You stravag, filthy surat! What in the name of the Kerensky's are you doing with the Goliath Scorpions? And with the Winters bloodname, no less? Remember me?" Frank was more than a bit surprised at the joy in Deserk's voice.

"Hold on… Deserk? Is that you? By the Founder! What are you doing here? It has been more than ten years! You were lost at Luthien!"

Frank was utterly confused now. "Wait a minute. You mean you guys _know _each other?"

Deserk replied with a laugh, "Know each other? This surat grew up with me in the same sibko!"

"Aff, but I was always the smarter one." Descartin said smugly.

"Not more than a minute, and you are already boasting." Deserk shot back, his voice full of amusement.

The incredulous mercs listened to the two bicker for more than a minute before Frank finally cut in. "Can we save the reunion chatter for another day? Star Captain Winters, you are welcome to our camp, provided you come in peace and goodwill. Can you give me your word that you will not attack us? There is much to discuss."

"On my honour and my bloodname, I will not attack any of you. I have come with a specific purpose in mind, and I suspect you can help me greatly."

"Not that his honour is worth much anyway." Deserk mumbled in a tone that was meant to reach the Star Captain.

"I heard that!" Descartin said.


	16. Past Echoes

_Warship _Blue Aerie_, In Orbit,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

_9th March 3068_

"Well, what did the report from Star Captain Harga say?" Lizabet Danforth asked as she tapped her foot impatiently for the report from her subordinate. Valten Folkner had gone off somewhere with his sensor personnel, undoubtedly to deliver another severe tongue lashing. She suspected he might be angry enough to resort to other kinds of lashing as well, specifically the neural whip kind.

The fighting for the day had been quite successful, with only three defeats, and even the losses suffered were not serious. The Arch Lancers had fought off Daniela Mattlov's Supernova Trinary, inflicting only Elemental casualties. In  return, they had lost three vehicles and an estimated one platoon of infantry.

Star Captain Daniela had offered Ian Dorlacen hegira, a wise move to preserve her own forces for other battles. Lizabet was aware that the fighting against the Lancers would be difficult and drawn out, and she had selected Daniela as the best suited for such a fight. Her choice was being vindicated by the relative success of the young Star Captain.

Another unit, Winslet's Warriors, had managed to trap her opposing Falcons in a river by spilling fuel onto the surface and setting the explosive fuel alight. Massed LRM and PPC strikes took down about a star of mechs before they were able to disengage. In return, a lance of the mercenaries was destroyed, which made the defeat a bit more palatable.

What infuriated her the most was the performance of Star Captain Harga's Trinary. He had bid himself down to a binary, only to be severely damaged by the resurgent Dragoon/Raider force. He had called upon his last bid, a heavy star, to support a final attack which would have crushed the mercenaries if not for the arrival of the insolent Goliath Scorpions. She was now awaiting the full report from Star Captain Harga, as nobody had any idea what conspired below to force Harga's withdrawal from the field of battle.

Her aide, Star Captain Dale Icaza, cleared his throat before speaking. "Galaxy Commander, here is the condensed report. Star Captain Harga moved his binary into the woods near the mercenaries' position before the battle. He had configured his mechs for medium and long range combat, expecting them to stay out of range of his mechs as they tried to lure him into another of their innumerable traps."

He continued, "The mercenaries did not act as he expected. They charged directly into his mechs, and proceeded to inflict heavy damage. One mech was forced to withdraw, while four were destroyed. Harga managed to pull his mechs out of the melee, and offered the mercenary commander, a certain Frank Meronac, surrender. He further communicated with his heavy star, authorizing them to advance to support his attack."

Lizabet cut in. "It was about this time that the Goliath Scorpions landed, quiaff?"

"Aff. The star of heavy reinforcements moved forward, while Harga headed towards them to regroup. Alpha Strike Star did not move far before they were challenged to a Trial of Grievance by a _Nova Cat_ and a _Stormcrow_. The strike Star Commander, Star Commander Trepi Crichell, accepted the challenge from the Goliath Scorpion Star Captain Descartin Winters…"

Lizabet held up a hand to halt the her aide. "Wait! What was the name of the Goliath Scorpion again?"

"Descartin Winters."

"Interesting. Do you know who he is, Dale?"

"I have never heard of him. I do not care for what goes on outside our clan. The warriors of the home clans are nothing special."

"You are wrong. This Descartin Winters is worthy of attention. Did you know he was not from Clan Goliath Scorpion originally?"

Dale shook his head in the negative.

"His first clan was the Nova Cats. He has attained a lot of honor for himself and his Bloodright over the years. Amongst the clans, he is called 'The Wanderer'. He has been a member of at least five clans, and in every clan, he had achieved some task for the clan that made it stronger. Unfortunately, every time that happened, he would invariably fall into the hands of another clan. It was this sole reason that has prevented him from rising any further in the ranks."

"And what does this got to do with our present situation?"

"Descartin Winters is said to be unbeatable in zellbrigen. He downed three opponents in his first Trial of Position, and was close to a fourth kill. In the report, the warriors who challenged him were defeated, quiaff?"

Dale looked at the report, then replied, "Aff."

"Continue with the report, then." She waved, a signal for Dale to finish the report.

"Star Commander Crichell fought with the Nova Cat, but was defeated, as you have surmised. So was her second, Mechwarrior Basier, when he fought with the _Stormcrow_. Upon arriving at the scene, Harga knew at once that with the loss of two mechs, he lacked enough mech strength to defeat the mercenaries, who were in pursuit. In order to save his mechs and his warriors, he decided that retreat was the best option. Pausing only to retrieve Tepri Crichell and Basier from their mechs, he left the field and headed for his dropship. The Goliath Scorpions did not stop him."

He stopped, having finished the report. He noticed Galaxy Commander Danforth now looking off into the space in front of her window, obviously deep in thought.

She muttered quietly to herself, "I wonder how Descartin Winters knew about this place…"

_Drop Zone Alpha,___

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

Sitting around a roaring fire, Frank finally got the chance to sit down and talk business with Descartin Winters.

Upon arriving at the _Nile_, the first thing Frank did was to get in contact with the other mercs groups, more specifically Ian Dorlacen and Karen Winslet. The importance of the key machines was growing daily in his mind, as Frank had came to the realization that discovery of the hidden base could be a find greater than any other in the history of mankind.

Descartin Winters and Deserk had not been idle either. Descartin had sent a message to his dropship _Bleeding Past_ after reaching the base camp with Frank's permission, getting it to rendezvous with the _Nile_.

When Frank asked him why it was so important that they get the dropships together, Descartin had only answered with a cryptic "You will see".

The mercs had gathered around the campfire, like moths drawn to a flame when Deserk had lighted it up with a plentiful supply of twigs and firewood collected from the forest.

Right now, they were feeling relaxed and happy after their victory over the Falcons. Sitting around chewing on their rations, they discussed the fighting of the day and bragged about their deeds.

"What does this remind you of?" Deserk asked Descartin, as the two sat down on an empty spot with their rations of canned beans.

"Aye, the Chronicle of Battles. Those were good days." Descartin said wistfully as he dug his spoon into the can and scooped out a heapful of beans.

"What are the two of you talking about? What's the Chronicle of Battles?" Frank asked as he walked up with his own food, a dried fruit bar.

"The Chronicle of Battles is an event where warriors of a unit gather to regale one another of past deeds and battles. It also provides an opportunity for warriors to prepare for battles ahead." Deserk replied.

"It has been many years since I have participated in such. I wonder if I will ever have the opportunity again." Descartin added

"Des, why are you even with the Goliath Scorpions? I had always thought you were destined for higher command in the Nova Cats," Deserk asked as he looked towards where the other Goliath Scorpion, who Des had introduced as Star Commander Jean Posavatz, sitting alone amidst the laughing mercs. She did not look exactly happy as she tried to concentrate on eating her food and ignoring the gleeful celebrations of the mercenaries around her.

Deserk said, "When I got captured on Luthien, you were doing fine. I was worried when Tukayyid occurred, but we managed to intercept casualty reports, and that's the last I heard of you. What happened?"

"Long story. The short version goes like this: After Tukayyid, I got transferred back to the homeworld and promoted to Star Colonel. It lasted for about a week before Clan Ghost Bear attacked my garrison with two clusters of mechs. I became bondsman to the Bears, and so my walkabout around the clans started. I would get captured, always when up against outrageous odds, work my way back up to warrior status, then get captured again. When I finally landed with the Goliath Scorpions, the lure of wandering the stars had taken root in me. So I decided to become a Seeker, searching for relics of the lost Star League."

Frank looked dubious. "How did you find this place? Heck, the Inner Sphere did not have anything concerning this place, or the houses would have been here already. We know from what the Arch Lancers told us that the Falcons got the wind of this place because of a timed message in their databanks, but what's your story?"

"Would you believe me if I told you my dreams led me to this place?" Des smiled.

Blinking his eyes a few times, Frank asked, "Huh?"

"Listen, I got a vision, a vision telling me to go to the jungles of Eden, where I managed to find a diary of a scientist who managed to escaped the fighting in the cities when the wars broke out. In his journals, he related the events of his life. Near the end of the journal, where it was quite clear he was delirious and dying from a virus native to Eden, he placed down important information that he felt future generations must know."

"Information about this place?" Frank asked.

"Aff. Coordinates of this world… and more. I assume you have found the Star League bases already?" Des' face grew serious now.

Frank nodded. "Yes, we have."

"Tell me, what have you found?" Descartin asked eagerly.

Frank hesitated. _How much does he know? And can I trust him that much? What does he intend?_ Frank thought. Looking around to ensure that there was no one else besides Deserk around, he came to a decision.

His gut feelings told him that Des was trustworthy and was a potentially useful ally. And he had not been let down by his instincts so far. _All the way then,_ he told himself.

"We found several ruined Star League bases, and they seem to have suffered some kind of attack in their last days. Before we could explore them though, we were attacked by advanced drone robots which nobody had ever seen before. We got rid of them, and managed to get plenty of data and lostech." Frank paused, as the next bit of information was the shocker.

"And we found evidence that there might be uhm…"

"Alien presence here before the first man ever set foot on this planet." Descartin finished for him, speaking softly.

Frank and Deserk gaped, their mouths hanging open for an instant before snapping shut again.

"You already know about this?" Deserk asked. "Then do the rest of the clans know about this as well?"

Des held up his hand. "No, not even the Khan of the Goliath Scorpions know about this. As a seeker, I am not obliged to release every piece of information to the clan as I find them. I can always choose to inform the clan of my findings after the entire quest is over. As for your first question, the dying scientist stated the findings they had on this world in his journal."

"How is it possible? I mean, this was obviously a top secret facility…"

Descartin explained, "The scientist, his name was Robert Pearson, worked here for ten years before he returned to the Star League. However, Amaris commenced his takeover of the Terran Hegemony at the same time. All research data pertaining to the work done here was expunged and destroyed by the personnel before Amaris' forces could discover them. The scientists who knew were all killed, with the sole exception of this Robert Pearson, who was in transit in the Free Worlds League at the time. He joined up with Jerome Blake's technical staff, and proceeded to aid in the liberation of Terra. He never divulged the secrets of this world to anyone, however, afraid of the consequences, and also because he was sworn to secrecy. He assumed that research at Area 51 would continue unabated and the scientists, after a certain breakthrough, would join up with the Star League Defense Force when the time is right."

"What about the SLDF commanders?" Deserk queried, "General Kerensky must have known about this."

"According to this Robert, he did not. Everyone who knew was either in this system or dead, with Robert the sole exception. He kept the knowledge to himself, even through the entire journey during the exodus, only to find chaos and death in front of him, during the war on the Pentagon worlds. He was unable to seek sanctuary with the second exodus, and escaped to a jungle hideout where he would await the end of the fighting. He caught the virus not soon after, and determined that his knowledge would not die with him, he broke his oath and tried to put down as much of his knowledge down before he died."

"And you found it after more than two hundred years." Deserk completed for him.

"Aff. I must confess I was highly skeptical of his claims in the beginning, but after consulting an… expert, he assured me the data was authentic. I proceeded to gather an expedition to get here, and so here I am."

"The certain breakthrough you mentioned, did it have anything to do with a hidden base on the planet?" Frank was fully engrossed in the discussion now, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

It was Descartin's turn to look surprised. "You know about that as well? Very good, then we have no secrets to hide from each other. Yes, I was here for the artifacts and lostech data, but more importantly, I want to ascertain the presence of the alien base. I decided to scout out this planet first for my clan, because I was not sure whether anybody would still be alive here after three hundred years without support, and I did not want to get disgraced if I had sent the clan here and nothing of note was found!"

"In the scientist's journal, was there any indication of where the alien base might be found?" Frank polished off the last of the fruit bar.

"That stumped me too. It was a crucial piece of information he left out, though I suspect he was having difficulty organizing his thoughts by then. He described the base as being a mountain in a deep crater, but nothing else. I find it difficult to imagine such a place."

Frank was excited now. "There are two such places on this planet! We only have to scout them out to ascertain the location!"

"But what about the door opening mechanism? You know what they are? Do you have them?" Des asked.

"The six machines used to open the door? Yes, we have them, or more accurately, we have some of them. There's one with us right now, and four others are with the other units scattered around the planet. The Falcons have one as well."

"Stravag! This is not good." Des cursed vehemently, tossing his empty can of beans onto the ground in anger.

"But we can't even figure out how to activate them. Did the journal say anything about that?"

"Unfortunately, no." At this moment, Descartin shouted at Star Commander Jean, who was sitting uneasily near the mercs, startling her into attention.

"Jean, get the others to stop whatever they are doing on the dropship and come down here!"

"All of them?" She shouted back.

"Aff!"

Descartin turned back towards Frank and Deserk. "But I know someone who can help us. In fact, he was the one who helped verify the information in the first place."

A Japanese man walked up at that moment. At his sides was a matched pair of swords, making him seem very menacing as he approached them.

Frank and Deserk put themselves on alert when they saw him, relaxing only when Descartin said, "He is with me."

The man walked up and bowed to Frank and Deserk in Kuritan fashion, surprising them.

"Uh, what is this?" Deserk asked.

"Star Commander Deserk, it has been a long time." The man spoke as he looked at the former clanner. "I am honored."

Deserk stared at him for a while before recognition bled into his eyes. "Yoshino Ihara! I remember you! Why aren't you with the Nova Cats?"

"Hai. As for my situation, let me just say that it was much more interesting to follow Star Captain Winters across the stars. Since then, I have served as a warrior whenever freeborns were allowed to in a clan. Right now, I am a warrior again. As I am indebted to Des for my life all those years ago, I have decided to follow him wherever he goes." Yoshino replied as he sat down.

"And I cannot get rid of you anyway." Des laughed. "What about the rest of the troupe?"

"I won't call them a troupe, Des. They might get offended. As good as you are, are you willing to take on an elemental in hand to hand?"

Descartin looked askance at Yoshino for a moment, before conceding, "Neg."

"Hah! To think that the mighty Descartin Winters is actually afraid of a lowly Sage!" A booming voice rang out, shocking them out of their sitting positions.

The man, no, giant who spoke walked towards them, a huge grin on his face. His massive frame was hidden by, of all things, a lab coat.

"Lowly? Sorry, but I would not exactly call someone who can break my bones in one blow 'lowly'. I have better sense than that."

Frank was shocked. He had heard of the massive clan infantry soldiers called elementals, but this was the first time he met one. And apparently, this elemental was a bit unusual.

"Uhm, forgive me my ignorance, but what is a sage?" Frank asked.

"Yes, what is it? You mentioned being a seeker, but I have not heard of such either. Enlighten us." Deserk added with a tinge of sarcasm.

"The Seekers of Clan Goliath Scorpion are devoted to recovering the lost relics of the Star League. They, which does not necessarily include me, believe that by doing so, they can rebuild the Star League piece by piece, like a jigsaw puzzle. A Sage is part of a Seeker's living heraldry, his entourage. Living heraldry consists of the Seeker's followers. Bondsmen like Yoshino are called Yeomen, laborers are called Footmen, and technicians are called Tinkers. These are the most common members of a living heraldry. Merchant caste Sutlers and scientist caste Sages, like Lorik here, are only involved in lengthy quests outside the homeworlds."

"Like the one you're now on?" Frank raised an eyebrow.

"Aff. Having a scientist on your side on something like this is a real advantage. He verified the information in the journal for me."

"He can say that again. Who was the one begging for me to join his quest in the first place?" Lorik smiled.

Deserk was the first to notice the slight discrepancy. "This elemental is a scientist?" He asked, incredulous.

"Who says elementals cannot be scientists?" The huge man asked. "I am tired of all the usual stereotypes that seem to insist that people born of the elemental genotype are brainless and dumb, fit only to be warriors or laborers."

Deserk gulped once. "Uh no, I didn't say that. But you have to admit, it is unusual…"

"Undoubtedly true. I entered the scientist caste with a lot of what you call baggage. It took me a long time to find my niche, and to be accepted for what I can do, not for what I look like."

"And what is your specialty?" Frank was eager for some help after running into the brick wall of his inadequate knowledge of engineering and physics when dealing with the key machine.

"I am a physicist. My labname is one of the most honored in the caste, Einstein."

Deserk burst out laughing. "What a coincidence! We called this planet Einstein!"

"Incredible! What are the odds on that happening?" Yoshino exclaimed.

"Even better. He's a physicist, which means he can help us figure out how to use the machines to get inside the base when we find it."

"And where is the machine? Can I see it?"

"Sure, follow me."

"Hey, what about Tina?" Yoshino said just as the whole group got up.

"You stay and tell her to, uh, entertain the mercenaries. That is her job anyway."

"Who's Tina?" A curious Deserk asked as they walked through the open bay doors of the _Nile_.

"An artist who insists on joining my group. Says she wants to be a Harbinger."

"And a Harbinger is?" Deserk prompted Descartin to continue.

"An artist who acts as a Seeker's chronicler and artisan." Descartin sighed. "Harbingers get a lot of prestige and status, so it is little wonder she wants to be one. She practically flung herself at me on my first quest!" His words got the whole group laughing.

It did not take long for Frank to lead them to the cargo bay where all the lostech was stored.

The key machine sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by other pieces of technology and equipment that the mercs were unwilling to activate for fear of blowing themselves up. The room was unlit and even with the lights on, the illumination was poor.

For a moment, Frank felt like a treasure hunter entering a tomb of hidden gold. Shaking it off, he walked up to it. "Here it is. What do you think?"

Almost immediately, Lorik was all over the machine, shining a torchlight into every nook and cranny. "I will tell you in, say, two days time? Now shoo!" He waved them off, enticed by the piece of lostech in front of him.

The others backed off, realizing that there was no way to drag the enthusiastic scientist off the machine.

Not that they could anyway, Frank remarked as they walked back to his office for further planning. Dragging a hundred plus kilograms, two and a half meter tall man is a tough proposition, even for three mechwarriors.

"What do we do next?" Deserk asked as Frank handed him a glass of water from the dispenser in the lab.

"Right now, we're doing pretty fine in the mech department." Frank poured Descartin another glass before having one for himself. "With Descartin's help, we should be able to pull off our next objectives, which is to gather the rest of the key machines and to locate the alien base. Here, Des, look at this."

Frank spread out the topographic map on the table. Deserk and Descartin crowded around as they looked at the map.

"Here," Frank pointed with a finger, "and here. These are the two spots which comes closest to the description of the location of the base in the journal."

"These are quite far away. We will have to use the dropships to get there."

"Which is why I need you to convince the Jade Falcon Galaxy Commander to allow us to use our dropships. There's no way we're gonna go anywhere if they have fighters ready to pounce on us the moment we lift."

"Do not worry. I will take care of this matter."

"There is one more thing. Won't it be a dishonor for you to be seen with Inner Sphere mercenaries?" Deserk asked.

"Why fight and gain nothing when I can cooperate and gain the lostech? I am as eager as any of you to uncover the secrets of this world. By the way, you will share the knowledge with me?"

"I guess so. The others may not like it though."

"I assure you that I will not take any of the lostech equipment. I will take only the data from the Star League bases, as well as any data we might find in the base, things that we can share and duplicate. The things here are the property of all humanity, and should not be restricted by anyone, from anyone. This knowledge has been withheld for far too long. With it, perhaps we can establish a new golden age."

"I wouldn't think that far ahead, considering we still got a galaxy of Falcons on our backs. Any brilliant ideas on how to get rid of them without getting ourselves killed?" Frank looked around at the other two warriors.

The office fell silent.


	17. Extrapolated Death

_Drop Zone Phi,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

_9th March 3068_

"What in heaven's name happened to yer mech!" Pascal Thome screamed in despair as he glared at the mech in front of him.

Ian Dorlacen climbed down from his cockpit wearily. "The Falcons happened to it. Don't worry, its mostly armor damage only. Superficial stuff."

"I'll believe that when I inspect its innards!" Pascal continued on his rant as he waved his crowbar dangerously close at Ian. "Why I ever chose to join up as yer tech chief, I never know. All you give me is more trouble."

Stepping to one side, Ian dodged the imposing implement. "Hey, trust me, will you? At least we didn't lose any mechs!" He shouted back. Ian was not feeling charitable either, due to the losses his unit had taken. The last thing he wanted now was a fight with his tech chief.

"I would have preferred that yer mechs were lost! Then me and me boys wouldn't have to fix up these walking wrecks!" Pascal smashed the crowbar several times against the left foot actuator of the _Awesome_ for emphasis. The armor was almost all melted away, and strands of myomer could be seen through the holes.

"All right, all right. Bonus pay for this repair, this time?" Ian was too tired for another fight, after the vicious one he had just been through.

That seemed to mollify the raging tech chief. "Ok, but you'd better remember! Not like on Sheratan when you promised but used the money to fix up the dropship instead!"

"Sure." Ian replied as he hurried through the bay doors of the _Fortress_-class dropshipto the sickbay. He had more important things to worry about.

It was a horrific sight as he walked through the cargo bays. The injured PBIs had been brought into the dropship directly by the jeeps and MASH vehicles, all to get them to the medical center more quickly. This was obvious by the trails of blood and gore that marked the passage of the wounded. Melted flesh and burnt skin were very much in present all over the floor, the stench almost overpowering. Ian had to swallow his own bile as it rose up into his throat.

The infantry had suffered almost fifty percent casualties.

The only good thing that had happened from the battle was the escape of his fire lance from the Nova unit chasing them. They had snucked into a cave and shut down their mechs, leaving no fusion signal for the Falcons to track. The Falcons withdrew soon after to rejoin their unit.

As Ian walked into the med center, he was struck by the gruesome scene of dead and dying soldiers stacked up in various corners of the overcrowded room. Wails of pain and grunts of struggle could be heard as injured men fought yet another war, this time for their lives.

A medtech saw Ian as he walked in, and quickly gestured him to follow. Ian nodded, knowing that he was to follow.

He was led to a bed, where a grizzled soldier was lying. The soldier was missing parts of his left leg and arm. There was blood all over the bed, soaking the white sheets in waves of red. His eyes were blurred with pain, and spittle could be seen on the corners of his mouth. He was still cognizant of his surroundings, though, and tried to sit up when Ian approached.

"Stay still Captain. Don't get up. How're you feeling?" Ian held out his hand, not wanting to put his friend through any more pain. He sat on a nearby stool, so that the other soldier would not need to strain to speak.

"Like… hell, sir." The whispered words came from Captain Sachin with difficulty. He was dying from sheer blood loss. "At least the plan worked."

The ploy of using troops hidden in the treetops had come from Captain Sachin. He had convinced Ian to use them, in spite of the strong likelihood that losses were going to be hideous if the Falcons managed to retaliate. Which is exactly what happened.

"I'm sorry, Sachin. Fifty percent casualties for your men in return for zero mech losses. I don't know if it's worth it. I don't even know how long we can keep this up if the damn Falcons keep throwing whole Supernovas at us. I shouldn't have listened to you."

"Heh. Remember Ian, … lives… are cheap." Sachin said, forcing the words out, "Battlemechs… aren't."

The infantry captain tried to draw in one last breath, but then his body finally failed him. He relaxed, and his eyes went blank. Ian hesitated, then gently drew his hands over the man's eyes, closing them for his friend's eternal sleep.

The mechwarrior sat by the bed for several long moments, holding back his tears, building up a slow, strong anger. The dead captain had been a good friend and soldier, constantly covering his back during the long, vicious campaigns in the Chaos March. It had been Sachin who had taught Ian the finer points of combined arms fighting, more specifically between vehicles and ground troops. Ian knew he would miss the veteran's advice in the coming days.

He looked for the doctor, and found him trying to amputate an arm off a screaming female soldier. Knowing that there was no point in staying there any longer, he left the room. He was depressed enough without having to watch more of his troops die.

Almost immediately, he bumped into Drenner. The big elemental was dragging dead bodies out of the medical center and packing them into plastic bags, where they would be later buried on Einstein. Mercenaries without a home, they laid their dead to rest wherever they were stationed. It was a long tradition, established long ago since the start of the Succession Wars.

Drenner did not seem too dismayed by the task confronting him. Ian noticed that clanners did not have the same level of reverence for life that people in the Inner Sphere have, which made them extremely suited to a life of war and death. _Maybe that's why they've managed to conquer so much of the Successor States in so short a time, _Ian thought.__

He was shaken out of his musings when Drenner waved a massive hand in front of his face. "Sir, are you feeling well?"

Ian sighed. "I've just lost half of my groundpounders, as well as my infantry commander, who's an old friend from the beginning. What do you think? Right now, I feel like shit. I really envy you clanners. You just don't have the same emotional hang-ups that we have."

Drenner scratched his chin. "I am not sure what you mean, but in the clans, warriors are honored for valiant deaths, not mourned. These soldiers died bravely, meeting their fate like true warriors. There is no need to grieve."

Ian certainly understood what the elemental meant, but he still had difficulty accepting that view. He realized that this issue of the sanctity of life was one of the major differences between the clans and the Inner Sphere. He doubted he could ever bring himself to understand their beliefs, which were almost alien at times.

"By the way, Major Ian, who was the Falcon commander? It does seem unfair to us that Galaxy Commander Danforth would have sent an entire Supernova Trinary after you. It is high praise indeed for a mercenary battalion."

"High praise? I'd rather do without that, thank you very much. As for the Falcon commander, it's one Star Captain Daniela Mattlov."

Drenner visibly shuddered at the name. "Well, that does not bode well for your chances. She is a ristar in the clan, and great things are expected of her in the future."

"A ristar? What's that?"

"A ristar is, for all intents and purposes, a 'rising star', which is used to denote anyone who has great skill and ability. To be deemed a ristar is to be marked for a successful career as a warrior in the clans. I had hoped to be labeled as such when I was younger, but it was not to be."

"So ristars are tough, huh?"

"Aff."

"And this one's in command of a Supernova trinary ready to nail our hides. No offense, Drenner, but it looks like you would be rejoining your clan in no time soon."

Drenner gave a sly smile. "It would seem dishonorable of me and the other bondsmen if we do not aid our present 'clan', that is, you, in this conflict. Even if we were taken back if you lost, we might not be acknowledged as true warriors, for we did not behave as such. You remember that there are at least ten elemental suits taken by your troops when we surrendered?" He continued to pack another body, oblivious to Ian's look of distaste.

"You're implying that…"

"We, as in the elementals you captured, are now willing to fight for the Arch Lancers. We do so not only because we want to prove our worth as warriors, but also because we feel that the clan has abandoned its honour in sending an entire supernova trinary at your unit, a measly battalion. What we are doing simply makes the coming battles more balanced. Still, a fight against overwhelming odds. What clansman would abandon such a chance at glory?"

"I'm flattered, really, but…"

"Do not hesitate, Major. Use us well, and who knows, victory may yet be yours." Drenner left with this parting shot as he slung three corpses wrapped in plastic with ease over his shoulders and marched down the corridor.

_Ten elemental warriors_. Ian thought to himself. He remembered long discussions with Sachin over coffee at night over possible uses of armored infantry in tandem with other combat units, coming up with several innovative tactics. This was when the Inner Sphere armies had started adopting battlearmor of their own, especially the more specialized versions like the Achileus, the Purifier, and Infiltrator Mk 2. He had long tried to get enough funds to outfit the infantry with such equipment, but there never was quite enough money to do so, between upgrading the mechs, buying more vehicles, or simply maintaining their ancient dropship.

He finally had a chance to use those tactics now, though he was sad that it had to be after Sachin died. Two elemental points were easily worth two whole infantry platoons in firepower and endurance, and their anti-mech capabilities make them even more useful in mech combat. The beginnings of another outrageous plan began to form in his mind.

He went back to the repair area, where Pascal and his techs were swarming over the mechs, trying to get them repaired in time for the next battle.

"Pascal! I need you to get me some techs and send them to the Star League base! I've a plan for the next fight!" Ian yelled.

Back in her makeshift office, Daniela Mattlov was busy resisting the urge to tear out her hair and scream in frustration. She had outnumbered and outgunned the Arch Lancers, and yet they were still able to squeak out a draw. She had been as cautious as possible, she had not underestimated them in any way, but they simply refused to play by the usual rules, and had managed to pull out a trick from their hat just as she was sure her Falcons would win.

The Nova chasing the vehicle company had been led on a merry chase up and down the plains, losing a mech to actuator damage, easily repaired, and several elementals due to long range sniping, but had managed to destroy three vehicles in return. It was a marginal victory for the Falcons, but Daniela had expected better.

The Nova that had split off to pursue the smaller four mech Lancer force had eventually lost their prey amongst the thick forest of the Whining Pines. In essence, it was a draw, but Daniela privately considered it a loss. They should have managed to track down the mercenaries and annihilated them.

Finally, there was her own unit, which had engaged in such a brutal fight that the technicians had reported that it would take at least three days before her mechs were fully operational again. She had suffered mostly armor damage to her mechs, but quite some internal wounds as well, with some limbs severed on the mechs. The elemental losses were more worrying, twelve elementals from her command Nova lost in combat, and twenty-one overall, almost a full star.

She had been surprised by the sudden appearance of infantry in the treetops, and that had led to an inexcusable lapse in concentration, which in turn had led to the stalemate. Her offer of hegira was forced, but in hindsight, she _did_ feel that the Arch Lancers had fought well and bravely, even if they did not adhere to clan rules of engagement.

The mercenary battalion was obviously full of tricks, and they were likely to have even more in store for her Falcons. No surprise there, but she did feel sorry for the mercs, judging by the fact that during the invasion, an unit like hers was capable of defeating, and did defeat, inner sphere regiments on its own, and yet was pitted against a single battalion in this case. The mercs were simply seeking to survive, and they were doing so admirably.

She was surprised, however, by the offer of a future duel from Major Ian Dorlacen. She was also much surprised by the amount of skill he possessed, as evidenced by his shooting off her _Warhawk_'s arm in the battle, in return for only armor damage on his _Awesome_.

If they had been using mechs of equal ability, she knew that she would have lost, and lost badly at that. For a proud Jade Falcon, that was a particularly galling fact to admit, but Daniela forced herself to acknowledge the truth. She saw no point in lying to herself. Her bluntness had caused her no small amount of trouble in the past, but she felt it was a good philosophy for a Falcon.

She had accepted his challenge on the spur of the moment, without thinking it through at the time. Now, she was beginning to have second thoughts. Even so, she could not imagine a way of having the duel, unless she won and took him as a bondsman. She did not think he would be alive if his unit lost anyway. As a Jade Falcon, she had agreed to the duel, and honor-bound to ensure that it occurs. If her current problems were not difficult enough, now she must also seek a way to defeat the Arch Lancers without killing their CO, in order for them to have their duel.

In any case, he was an elite mechwarrior, with a sense of honor to match, despite employing despicable tactics to win. Daniela had been in the Inner Sphere long enough to recognize that not everybody had the same code of honor the clans have, but have other, equally valid ones. He obviously wanted satisfaction from being outmatched by her _Warhawk_.

Groaning, she leaned back in her seat. She could win the campaign eventually, but she was afraid that her losses would be too severe. Severe enough that Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth might decide that she was still too raw and inexperienced to command a cluster.

And a cluster command was what Daniela really wanted. She knew she was good, and she had talent. She had attained her bloodname when she was twenty-five, and now at thirty-one, she felt ready to command a whole cluster.

In the clans, age was a warrior's worst enemy. By thirty, if a warrior had not attained Star Captain rank at the very least, it was certain that most commanders would have given up on the warrior ever achieving the rank, with solahma duty on the way in one quick year. Likewise, the age threshold for Star Colonelcy was about thirty-five. Forty for Galaxy Command. Daniela was getting anxious, with only four more years before she would be dumped into the solahma bin.

She wanted to last long enough to take part in the renewed invasion when it comes, but with the clan still regaining its strength, and with most of the other clans either unwilling or unable to execute a second invasion even in 3069, it was getting obvious that Clan Jade Falcon would have to go it alone, or perhaps with the hated Wolves as unlikely allies.

To this end, Khan Marthe Pryde had decided to increase the Touman yet again, with sixty clusters as the new target in five year's time, even more than the traitorous Ghost Bears. Sibkos had been pushed into accelerated programs and freeborn recruitment had soared in the past few years, as Clan Jade Falcon continued to recover from the ruinous Refusal War and the furious repositioning on the Lyran border for the drive towards Terra during the recent Federated Commonwealth Civil War.

But in order for Daniela to take part in the liberation of Terra, she had to avoid being relegated to the ranks of the solahma by winning a Trial of Position for the rank of Star Colonel.

The present campaign had been a good opportunity for her to show her mettle, and hopefully gain the eye of the Khan with excellent results. She had hoped to gain command of one of the new clusters formed to strengthen the Touman, but she reckoned that there was little chance of that now.

Judging from her simulations and extrapolation of the day's results, defeat of the mercenaries was almost inevitable. She had lost almost a star of elemental, in return for an estimated two platoons of infantry killed, and three vehicles. At the present rate of attrition on both sides, she would win in the end, but with almost sixty percent losses. In other words, unacceptable losses.

_How to win without incurring such losses?_ She wondered.

Just then, there was a knock, no, more like a bang, on her door.

"Come in!" She shouted.

The man who walked through the door had a furious expression on his face as he entered the room and stomped right up to Daniela's table without a single word of greeting.

"What is it this time?" She asked wearily, already half-suspecting the answer.

Star Commander Jedec roared back, "Those filthy sibbies have gone too far! They are ill-disciplined, arrogant sons of bitches! They should all be taken out, shot, and deposited to be food for pigs!"

She raised an eyebrow. "Your speech has been corrupted by living in the Inner Sphere. Furthermore, you have not answered my question, _Star Commander_." She spoke in an icy voice, putting some emphasis on his rank.

"Ten minutes ago, just because his mech had lost all of the actuators on one leg, Mechwarrior Orden and his ilk decided to take out his anger on some of the techs servicing the mechs. Two techs are now in the sickbay with broken limbs, and three more being treated for concussions. The doctor refuses to let them return to work, citing that they might make critical errors in the state they are now in. Because of this, the chief tech tells me that it would be impossible for him to get all our mechs ready in three days time."

Daniela could only put her head in her hands in despair. The sibbies were going to be the death of her.


	18. Surprising Obstacles

_Dropship _Nile_,_

_Drop Zone Alpha,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

_10th March 3068_

"Well, Frank, what is this brilliant plan of yours?" A skeptical Forsen Mandela asked as he folded his arms above his not-so-unsubstantial girth.

Frank winced at the merchant's tone of sarcasm. "Descartin says he can get authorization from the Galaxy Commander to allow us to relocate. Remember that I've told you that our survival may depend on getting the 'key' machines. If we can get to the other merc units, we may be able to give, or at the very least, sell them the spare machines we have, and incidentally, gather the other key machines."

"And how does that help us in the long run, huh?" Forsen jutted out his jaw stubbornly.

Frank forced himself to remain calm and focused. "If we could get into the alien base, we could bunker down in there and thumb our noses at the Falcons. It may also be a useful bargaining chip for us to get back to the Inner Sphere. And resupplying the other mercs will force the Falcons to use up their assets in dealing with them. Right now, we have the extra mechs, but no drivers for them. They might have the opposite problem."

"And this clanner thinks he can help us?" Forsen glanced suspiciously at Descartin, who was standing impassively at one side, hands behind his back in the classic 'at ease' position.

The other warriors present on the bridge of the _Nile_ were Deserk, Kily and Yoshino, lounging around trying not to look bored as Frank tried to sell the merchant his latest idea.

"Give him a chance, okay?" Frank persisted, "He's already helped us back in that last fight. What else could he do to make things worse?"

Forsen bent his head slightly, as though considering the offer. "Alright. But I want him to try to get offworld authorization as well."

"Bargained well and done." Descartin said as he relaxed his stance and walked up next to Frank. "Open your communications now."

Forsen gestured to the tech manning the communications console, as the other mercs gathered excitedly around.

"Linking to the Falcon Warship, boss." The tech reported as he steadied the link. "Ok, the line's open, you can speak."

"Attention, Jade Falcon Warship, this is Star Captain Descartin Winters of Clan Goliath Scorpion. I wish to talk to your Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth."

The response did not take long. "This is Lizabet Danforth. What slimy arachnid dares to oppose the talons of the Jade Falcon? Have you any sense of honor, collaborating with dezgra mercenaries?"

"I have honor enough to deal with you and yours, Galaxy Commander. What I do with them is my business, which is none of your concern. I have come to discuss something on behalf of the mercenaries, concerning the movement of their dropships."

"Oh, so they have finally realized the futility of their position, and wish to bargain for passage offworld? They may do so, but only as our bondsmen."

Descartin shot Forsen a look that said volumes about Forsen's chances of getting escaping the planet. He then continued, "Neg. They do not wish to obtain passage offworld, but they do wish to move around the planet to support their comrades.

"They can do so, provided they can fight off my aerospace forces."

"You are not being fair here, Galaxy Commander. They have no aerospace assets, and to use their dropships for combat is suicidal and foolhardy, considering that they have to transport their battlemechs as well. You will gain more honor if you can defeat them on the ground on level terms, not by attacking merchant dropships with clan fighters that are better than anything else humanity has!"

"You have a point there, Descartin Winters. But I would like to know what, if anything, they intend to do with this new freedom."

"The warriors of the dropship _Nile_ plan to rendezvous with Rasouf's Rangers at site Epsilon. I will accompany them in my search for Star League artifacts."

"Very well, I shall allow you to travel across the planet. In fact, I now allow all of the mercs to do so, but with one condition. We must be informed of all movement. Any movement off planet will be severely dealt with, and I assure you that even if all the dropships try to escape at the same time, none of them will succeed. I have more than just Warships and fighters available to me. In fact, I have two _Noruff_ class assault dropships more than willing to destroy your ships if they attempt something foolish."

"Bargained well and done. Winters out." Descartin drew a line across his throat, signaling the tech to cut the link.

Frank, who had been listening to the exchange with trepidation, finally let out a sigh of relief. This did not go unnoticed by Kily. "Hey, Frank, why so nervous?"

"You realize that if we couldn't get to the Rangers, we could only wait to fight off ever more Falcons here? We've been surviving more on luck than anything else, and this has got to change. Hooking up with the other mercs will be the first step to consolidating our forces. It'll also force the Falcons into choosing whether to engage the bigger merc groups first, or the smaller ones. We've been losing too many of our smaller groups to the Falcons in the small unit engagements."

Deserk entered the conversation. "Frank's right. In the smaller unit battles, losses to the Falcons were much less than in the bigger ones. Losses in armor and weapons is nothing compared to the loss of entire mechs in engagements that involve more than ten mechs on all sides. By getting together, we can hurt the Falcons more."

Frank turned to Forsen, "Send the word out to the other groups."

_Dropship _Battle's Bane_,_

_Drop Zone Phi,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

Ian could not believe his ears. "Deserk, you're sure of this?" He asked.

"Aff." Came the reply. "Authorization just came from Rho Galaxy command, straight from Lizabet Danforth's mouth. Only condition is that we must inform them first. We think they might be letting us group together, so as to defeat us more easily."

"No more second guessing. My Lancers have a battle tomorrow. If we survive, we're heading for Winslet's Warriors. We should've engaged in large groups from the very start, not let ourselves get chewed up piecemeal. Anything else?"

"There is one more thing. You have one of the key machines, right?"

"Yup. What do you want me to do?" From Deserk's tone, Ian knew something was up.

"Get to Karen, and get her key machine. After that, contact us, and we'll tell you where to go next. We have several possibilities for the location of the hidden base, but Frank wants to get all the machines together before seeking out the base."

"But one machines has been taken by the Falcons… And the last one we have not accounted for yet is with the Ragged Ones. They've been out of communications for several days now. Nobody, not even the Falcons, know where they are. They fought a binary to a draw, then abandoned their dropship and disappeared in the jungle. That was their last report before they disappeared."

Deserk uttered a curse softly. "Freebirth. This is just great. How are we going to find these last two machines?"

"We will come to that when we're ready. Right now, let's just do what we can. I'll contact you as soon as I get the machine from Karen. And tell Frank I wish him the best of luck. He'll need it."

"I'll pass it on. Good luck to you too. Deserk out."

_Warship _Blue Aerie, _In Orbit,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

Valten Folkner stared at Lizabet Danforth. He was trying to control his anger. Unsuccessfully.

"What in the Kerensky's name were you thinking when you gave them aerospace access?" He shouted. "They might be able to take advantage of this by organizing all their dropships into a group capable of punching through our blockade!"

Lizabet remained icily calm in the face of Valten's anger. "Which they will not. They will not leave until they have found the other Star League base on the planet. I allowed them movement because it suits my purposes."

At Valten's puzzled look, she continued. "The information we have gathered from our victories thus far had been either lacking in the pertinent data, or had been corrupted by time. There is a base yet unfound, and it seems that a certain set of machines are required to gain access to it. So far, we have only one of the six machines, and the mercenaries have the other five."

Valten did not take long to realize her plan. "And now you allow them atmospheric movement because you want them to find and open the base first."

"Find, yes. Open, no. I intend to have forces shadowing the Dragoon group, ready to issue a challenge once they have found the base."

Valten clapped his hands. "Brilliant. But would it not be better if we could defeat the mercenaries first?"

Lizabet snorted. "They have managed to fight off some of our best units in previous battles. What makes you so assured of a victory in future battles? No, we will simply whittle them slowly with more battles, before overwhelming them when they find the hidden base. I can take the loss of some honour. These are dezgra mercs after all. Another consideration is information on the location of the base, which is completely lacking from the archives we have captured. Possibly only the mercs know the location, so I will not want to take the risk of losing the information by having them die in combat."

"They could have stored it in their computers…" Valten pointed out.

Shaking her head, Lizabet said, "Unlikely. It does not matter now anyway. We will find the hidden base, thanks to them, and maybe set up a permanent station here. The other mercenary units will probably band together for mutual protection. It will avail them little. The fighting of the previous days has given the younger warriors a taste of real combat against the Inner Sphere, and they will be more prepared for their freebirth tricks now. It is time to let them have a taste of larger unit action. This 'training' will come in useful when we renew the invasion."

She paused. "And how about the missing jumpships?"

"We are still working on it." Valten answered immediately, having anticipated the question. "We have narrowed down the possible pirate points, but there are still more than forty possibilities. It will still take at least a week before we are able to track them down."

"See? Once we have captured their jumpships, it would not matter if they are able to travel off planet. We can hunt their dropships down at our own leisure. No, this campaign will be decided on the ground, between mechwarriors and elementals, the way it should be."

Valten saluted her. "And with you in charge, our victory is inevitable."

_Dropship _Nile_,_

_Drop Zone Alpha,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

"Ready for lift, Sir!" A tech called out to Forsen Mandela as Frank walked onto the bridge.

Forsen looked over to the young mechcommander. "Ready, Frank?"

Frank checked his seat straps once, before he said, "It's your call. How about Descartin?"

"The _Bleeding Past_ is also ready for lift. You're sure about the clanners following us?" Forsen was still unsure about the benefits of having clanners with their expedition, even if the Dragoons had vouched for them.

"Definitely. These are good clanners, or so I've been told by Deserk, and he hasn't steered me wrong yet." Frank said. Forsen had the distinct impression that Frank had his own doubts as well, but he decided that bringing that up at this point was less than useless.

He nodded. "Okay. Engines at full power! Activate thrusters!" Forsen barked out as the bridge crew scrambled to obey his orders.

A deep rumbling could be felt beneath their feet, as the powerful fusion engines of the _Overlord_-class dropship prepared to unleash their nuclear fire, harnessed by the technology of man to provide near limitless power.

"Go!" As soon as the words were uttered, a roar could be heard as the _Nile blasted off into the sky, followed closely by an aerodyne _Broadsword_._

_Drop Zone Epsilon,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

Captain Hamirah Rasouf of Rasouf's Rangers cursed softly in fluent Arabic as Lieutenant Benny Greaves, her second in command, came up with the latest piece of news, which she was sure was going to be bad.

His face showed delight though, confusing her for an instant. "Captain, we have just received great news! The mercs off the _Nile _have managed to get permission from the Falcons to move around the planet, and are heading here right now!"

Her face immediately lost its sour disposition. "Right now? How soon till they get here? And how did that happen?"

"About an hour. As to how they did it, I have no idea. We can ask them when they arrive." He look at Hamirah in a querying manner. "Uhm, what do you think they want?"

"Isn't it obvious? They want our key machine. But they have to give us something good in return if they want it. Nothing goes for free, especially when it involves us."

"Good thinking, boss lady." Benny had high respect for his commander, increased when she had managed to beat off the attacking binary of Falcon mechs with only their two lances of mechs and one lance of tanks. The Falcons officially lost, ceding the field to the mercs, but none of the four dropped Falcon mechs were salvageable, while the mercs had lost all their vehicles and four mechs. The remaining mechs were also badly damaged, but the techs had already fixed them up as best as they can.

That left four pilots cooling their heels, the Rangers lucky enough not to lose any mechwarriors. They were further given a long reprieve by the Falcons, obviously judging them no longer a viable threat or challenge. Hopefully, the incoming mercs would have spare mechs for the Rangers, which would make them no longer dependent on the clanners' generosity for their continued survival.

Almost precisely an hour later, two huge shapes appeared in the skies. It did not take them long as land, as landing spots had already been marked out carefully by the Rangers. The_ Overlord_-class _Nile_ swung over and touched down vertically, its landing struts extending to absorb the impact of thousand of tons of steel hitting the ground.

The _Broadsword_ class _Bleeding Past_, being shaped like a plane, landed differently, its landing gear extended as it bumped to a stop on a impromptu landing strip cleared of trees, courtesy of some quick lumberjacking by the mechs of the Rangers.

It could have used its vertical thrusters, but that approach used more fuel, and Hamirah knew that hydrogen refueling was not exactly easy to come by in the Periphery.

She glinted as sunlight was reflected off the hull of the _Overlord_, casting bright rays over the landing site. A whirring sound was heard as a bay door slowly opened, the ramp extending to the ground like a moat drawbridge.

The first person she saw was also the one she least expected.

The first thing Frank noticed as the bay door came down was a massive _Stalker_ behind the welcoming committee of the Rangers. Somehow, it looked familiar to him.

As the door went down further, he saw the Rangers, seemingly none the worse for wear after their run in with the Jade Falcons.

Even before the ramp had touched the ground, he walked forward, eager to talk to their commander, a smile on his face.

He had barely taken two steps off the ramp before he was socked by a roundhouse thrown by a Arab woman in a faded green and brown uniform.

The uniform of the AFFC during the Civil War, with unit patches for the Sirdar CMM.

A small man in a jumpsuit sprang forward, holding back the furious woman by her shoulders as Kily quickly interposed himself between the woman and Frank, who was lying on the ground clutching his jaw.

"Stop!" Deserk shouted as mercenaries from both sides quickly stepped into one another's faces, their fists raised and ready for a fight. "Everybody stop!" He shouted in vain as he moved to Frank's side.

Frank was seeing plenty of stars as he tried to block out the pain from his aching chin. He staggered to his feet, helped up by Deserk.

The woman was shouting insults and curses at Frank in some strange language, lapsing into English at certain points.

Then he heard, "Meronac, you caused the death of my company on Sirdar! You butcher!"

So that was what it was all about. She had fought for the 'other side' in the civil war. Memories, many of them bad, flooded into his mind.

"Everyone stand down!" Frank shouted in the most commanding voice he could muster, which did not seem like much to him.

Amazingly, the mercs off the _Nile_ managed to lower their raised fists, and move away from the Rangers, defusing a potentially explosive situation.

The small man holding back the cursing woman shouted at his fellow mercs, ordering them to stand down as well.

"Get back! Get back! Where're your manners, boys?" He scolded.

By now, the woman's anger had subsided, but her eyes still burned with hate. Coherent now, she shook off the man holding her, and walked up to Frank.

"You caused my disgrace. Caused my unit's defeat. Frank Meronac, the Hero of Sirdar." She said, her tone low and threatening. "Have you come to gloat?"

"No. Heck, I don't even know what I've done to deserve this sort of welcome!" Frank replied.

"Obviously you don't. To the Hero of Sirdar, the Sirdar CMM are nothing, right? Scarcely worth the bother to even be remembered." She continued in a sarcastic tone.

The other mercs were gathered around the two commanders, trying to make sense of her words.

"I was in a _Stalker_ that day, defending one of our forward key supply dumps. And suddenly there was this _Dart_ appearing out of nowhere and blowing up our supplies."

Frank suddenly realized what she was talking about. She was the _Stalker_ pilot at the supply depot, defending it against his accidental discovery. The destruction of the supplies could not really be directly attributed to him, but more to sheer blind luck and the vagaries of warfare. Without a doubt, that had been the turning point of the campaign.

"Because of the destruction of our supplies, my entire company was wiped out by your artillery." Hamirah shook her fist in front of Frank's face. "And because of that, I spent five years in a POW camp, constantly ridiculed for my failure against a light mech piloted by someone who wasn't even a mechwarrior!"

"And that's my fault?" Frank asked in a weary tone. "It was war. Civil war. No quarter asked or given. I was just doing my duty."

"Duty? Oh yeah, you were only a doctor, right? So what were you doing in a mech? Trying to stitch men together with mech fingers?"

"Damn it. I didn't even know what I was doing more than half the time, let alone what else could happen. Blame yourself for what happened. You were the one who fired the shot that went into the crates, not me!"

Hamirah let out a scream of rage, and lunged at Frank before being pulled back by two Rangers. The small man stepped up, and nervously spoke to Frank.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know this would happen. Captain Hamirah never told us her past before forming the Rangers. She'll settle down in a while, I hope. Can we talk inside your mech bay? I also want to look at what mechs you have available that you can spare us."

"Sure." Frank flicked a thumb back to the dropship. "Come on. Anything to get away from her." He shuddered as he saw the almost frothing Captain Rasouf.

"We need your mechs." Benny said. "End of request."

"And we need your key machine. Fair exchange, quiaff?" Descartin Winters replied. He had joined them in the mech bay of the _Nile_ along with Yoshino Ihara shortly after they had landed. He had not witnessed the fracas involving the Rangers' CO, but he had been told all the same.

"So that's what we'll do, it's that simple." Kily said. "Isn't it?" He looked around. He saw only doubtful faces.

"It's not that simple. I don't think Captain Rasouf would exchange the key machine willingly, even for our spare mechs. Not with me here." Frank said sourly. "I'm sorry for this. How the heck was I supposed to know?"

"Exactly. You weren't. Not your fault, Frank." Deserk turned to Benny. "Lieutenant Greaves, can you persuade your captain to agree to the exchange? It's for the greater good of us all."

"I dunno, but I'll try." Benny had a doubtful look on his face, which Frank completely understood.

Suddenly, Forsen's voice came over the PA system.

"Frank, Deserk, the sensor pickets of the Rangers have picked up a trinary of clan mechs heading our way." Forsen sounded nervous. "Mostly heavies, from the looks of things. You guys better get in gear, ASAP!"


	19. Vendettas and Assault Mechs

_Drop Zone Epsilon,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery,_

_10th March 3068_

"Bryan, what's the sitrep?" Frank asked as he ran his _Night Gyr_ along a path created by the rest of the company ahead.

Bryan, who was leading the way towards the Falcons in his _Fenris_, and further afield than everybody else, answered, "Not good. My Beagle Probe is picking up at least six assault class tremors approximately 2 klicks ahead. The overlap's too much for the probe to make any distinctions, but I can tell you we are going to get stomped!"

"Shut up Bryan, and clamp down on the defeatist talk." Descartin cut in. "Frank, where are the Rangers? We need every mech we can muster here."

"They're two minutes back. Captain Rasouf is leading her surviving mech lance. If she doesn't want to join us, I don't blame her. Six assaults is quite a lot of firepower. I've already told Benny to let their dispossessed take any of our spare mechs, but Captain Rasouf is forbidding him to do so."

While the twenty battlemechs of the combined Raider/Dragoon/Ranger/Goliath Scorpion force was very impressive, everybody knew the odds against an assault trinary were not going to be good.

Benny Greaves had been left back with the other three spare mechwarriors of the Rangers to have Frank's spare mechs prepared for them. The addition of a _Wasp_, a _Stalker_, an _Enforcer III_, and the _Dire Wolf_ salvaged from the last battle would turn the odds completely in their favour.

If only Hamirah Rasouf would allow her men to use them.

Apparently, she was not going to accept any favours from Frank, who she had refused to meet, or even talk to. Everybody, even her own troops, knew she was taking her vendetta too far, but she was still the Ranger's CO, and they were soldiers with good discipline, unwilling to stage a mutiny.

Switching over to the Rangers tactical frequency, Frank could hear Benny continuing his campaign of persuasion on his superior officer.

"Sir, Commander Meronac's right!" Benny was obviously trying very hard. "War is war, and it wasn't personal. Can't you just put it down to fate, and let the past be? God knows that with every battle we take part in, someone has to die. No different in the civil war. Kill or be killed, that's our life. Are you going to take out your anger on Frank, who was only a pawn on someone's chessboard? We are all pawns, dammit!"

"Captain Rasouf," Frank interjected, "My scouts have picked up at least six assaults in front at one point five klicks. Get your mechs ready to engage."

"Shut up! I don't need your advice!" The response came.

"Captain!" Benny wailed. "Just let us use their mechs! We can settle it after we've won!"

"No!!" She angrily replied.

"Frank, heads up. We're getting into combat range." Kily reported from his new _Wolfhound_, formerly a Dragoon machine, but assigned to him after his _Commando _lost its arm, which they had been unable to replace at short notice. Frank could hear a certain newfound assurance and confidence in the young mercenary's voice, where he would have once gave his report in a semi-panic.

Suddenly, there was a sudden transmission over Frank's headphones.

A male voice came in. "Commander Frank, Star Captain Descartin Winters, this is Star Captain Harga. I have not forgotten my humiliation at your hands a few days ago. I will now regain my lost honour! You now face Trinary Bravo. Prepare to die!"

"Frank, are you receiving the challenge?" Descartin asked.

"Yup. He's mad at us, all right." Frank slowed his mech down, signalling to the rest of the unit to do the same.

"Here is my plan." Descartin voice came over the comms. "Get your recon lance in a flanking attack to threaten their rear. The rest of us will engage at long range, crescent formation, anchors towards the Falcons. I will suggest concentrating fire on their heaviest machines. The recon lance must refrain from attacking until I give the signal. Keep pulling back constantly, so that when Benny Greaves and his men get permission, they don't have to travel too far. Everybody got that?"

A chorus of 'ayes' and 'affs' replied, Frank's among them. He knew that Descartin Winters was by far the most experienced warrior on their side, and was the best candidate to get them out of the mess they're now in. He was not worried about ceding command to Des, but he wondered at the Seeker's confidence that Benny would enter the battle.

Almost immediately, the recon lance led by Bryan peeled away in a rapid movement to the right flank, with Jean Posavatz' _Ryoken_ following to provide more firepower.

The rest of the mercs slowed to  form a crescent, directly countering the wedge formation of the Falcons as they approached. The four mechs of the Rangers took up a position behind the crescent, ready to support any position in the crescent should the front mechs falter, or to blast through if an opportunity presents itself.

Not that a _Stalker_, two _Griffins_, and a _Lineholder_ could do much against clan omnimechs, Frank thought uncharitably.

The foremost charging mech of the Falcon wedge, a massive _Daishi_, came in at full speed as it fired at Des' _Nova Cat_. Autocannon and laser blasts erupted throughout the battlefield as the battle got underway.

Frank, who was anchored on one of the crescent points, found himself facing a _Cauldron-Born_. It fired its Gauss rifle at his mech, the nickel-iron slug smashing into the left leg. A volley of pulse lasers from its left arm melted armour all over his middle.

Frank was not worried, letting his armour do its job while he locked onto the enemy mech with his lasers. Since the last battle, they had recovered enough salvage that some reconfiguring of the omnimechs was possible. Frank had stripped out the streak SRMs and a large pulse laser for a trio of extended range large lasers, wanting a flatter damage curve for his mech. The trio of lasers lashed out, scoring hits on the _Cauldron-Born_'s left and right torso. The exchange left Frank with a clear advantage in armour, which was already quite substantial to begin with.

Meanwhile, the rest of the unit was having some difficulty turning back the Falcon advance. Descartin squared off against the _Daishi_, every single one of his autocannon and heavy laser shots hitting the centre torso of the assault omnimech, tearing it apart with just one attack in an incredible display of skill backed up by a targeting computer.

The _Daishi_ slammed down face first into the ground, as its compatriots continued to advance, firing their weapons. One _Turkina_, two _Gladiators_, two _Masakaris_, and three _Kingfishers_ stomped their terrifying way into the merc lines, with another _Night Gyr_ and a _Thor_ following close behind.

It did not take the Falcons long to identify Descartin's _Nova Cat_ as the most deadly opponent, as they concentrated fire on it. Missiles explosions, PPC, and laser blasts bloomed all over the mech as Descartin tried to manoeuvre out of the way. As the explosions died down, Frank could hear sounds of relief all over the tactical net as a badly mangled, but still functional _Nova Cat_ emerged, with almost no armour left, and a missing arm. In his short time with the mercs, Descartin Winters had made himself quite popular.

"Stravag Falcons! Take down the _Turkina_ and the _Warhawks_, sorry, _Masakari_s down now!" A frantic Descartin yelled. "They have thrown away their own ROEs!"

The return fire of the mercenaries was no less impressive, as they extracted revenge for Descartin. Concentrating their own firepower on the _Turkina_ and the two of the _Masakaris_, they managed to wipe most of the armour off the clan mechs. The Rangers chipped in with swarms of supporting LRM fire on the _Turkina_.

Frank found himself still engaging the _Cauldron-Born_, as the clanner closed in. He received a transmission from the enemy mech as it fired its large pulse laser and streak SRMs.

"I am Star Commander Lerner. Star Captain Harga has sent me to ensure your death. Now die!"

"Oh yeah?" Frank retorted as he kept his mech upright despite the damage taken. "Come and claim my life then, if you can!" As he said the words, he fired his ultra autocannon at Lerner, missing with one salvo, but hitting with the other. The shot hit the legs of the _Cauldron-Born_, and the mech suddenly staggered for a while before regaining its balance. Frank grinned, knowing he had likely destroyed one of the leg actuators.

_That makes us even in speed now, _Frank thought as he ignited his jumpjets, jumping to his left as he prepared to hit the rest of the Falcons from the rear after taking care of the _Cauldron-Born_.

The rest of the Falcon mechs had now split their fire, engaging each mercenary mech separately, with only the huge _Turkina_ still fixated on Descartin. From their previous battle, everybody knew it was Harga's mech, and from the way the Falcons had acted, he really wanted Descartin dead, maybe to make up for his earlier loss.

The _Turkina_ fired its LB-20X autocannon, the shotgun shells blasting into the shattered _Nova Cat_, but failing to put it down. Laser pulses smashed into the left torso, destroying the engine and the targeting computer there. Defying all odds, the mech refused to die.

Fighting his rising heat levels, his damaged gyro, and his damaged engine, Descartin nevertheless responded with his remaining dual heavy lasers in his right arm, missing with one laser blast, but sending the other straight into the head of the _Turkina_, killing Harga immediately.

The _Nova Cat_ shut down after that, its few remaining heat sinks strained to breaking point by the heat build-up in the last few moments. Descartin did not eject, electing to rejoin the battle once his heat levels were down. It was a huge risk he was taking to remain in an immobile mech during a battle, and every experienced mechjock knew it.

Anxious to keep the Falcons away from Descartin's mech, the rest of the mercs also spilt their fire now, dealing out damage almost evenly among the attacking clanners but drawing much unwelcome attention. Mechs were damaged, and none were destroyed, but Geenan's _Vindicator_ came the closest with a damaged engine. Following Descartin's plan, the mercs were moving backwards, but the Falcons were following close behind.

Frank heard many voices over the frequency calling for support. "Geenan! Get back to the _Nile_, your _Vindie_ can't take much more of this!" Kety moved his _Gallowglas_ to cover his lancemate's retreat as he barked out the order.

The _Masakari_ they were both fighting fired its gauss rifle and the medium lasers at the retreating _Vindicator_, which were thankfully stopped by the _Gallowglas_, which had moved just in time to intercept the shots.

"Come on, parrot! Take on someone closer your own size!" Kety shouted as he triggered his own lasers, scouring armour off the clan omnimech's flanks.

The _Masakari_ was hardly fazed by the Dragoon's bravado, however, and continued to advance. The rest of the Falcons had also weathered the mercenary attacks easily, the heavy armour of the assault mechs proving difficult to breach.

Frank unleashed another storm of depleted uranium rounds at the _Cauldron-Born_, followed by his medium pulse lasers. The autocannon fire missed, but both medium pulse lasers hit, one leaving meltmarks on the left arm, the other spitting ruby darts into the already damaged leg. The _Cauldron-Born _crashed to the ground, but not before launching one more attack at Frank's _Night Gyr_.

The Gauss slug hit straight into the middle of the mech, sending Frank's teeth to clatter painfully, reminding him once again why he hated facing gauss rifles. Pulse laser and missile hits all impacted on the legs, but did not come close to removing the thick armour there.

Out on the main battlefield, the retreating mercs had moved back quite a bit, leaving Frank and Deserk's wrecked _Nova Cat_ in their rear lines. The _Thor_ moved back to remedy this problem. In the distance, Frank could see two more assault mechs approaching, which he took to be their rearguard, holding off his recon mechs.

Looking around, he could see the rest of the unit in trouble. The overwhelming firepower of the clan assault omnis was beginning to tell on the mercenaries, as breaches and damaged limbs, as well as pilots losing their mechs' balance, were reported on the tactical frequency. Yoshino and Kety were trying to keep tabs on the situation, but it was clear that it would not be long before cumulative damage destroyed the mercs.

And then there was the _Cauldron-Born_ at his feet. He could fire his weapons into the cockpit right now, and save time, or he could offer the pilot a chance to surrender.

Frank quickly made his decision, aiming his pulse lasers into the cockpit of the Cauldron-Born before it regained its feet. "Ten, nine, eight…" He started counting, broadcasting the countdown from his loudspeakers, hoping that Lerner would get the hint.

Lerner did, and scrambled out of the cockpit on his hands and knees just before Frank melted it into a mess of twisted and melted alloys.

"Frank, once you've finished showboating over there, get the _Thor_." Descartin coughed once, obviously bothered by the intense heat inside his own cockpit. "I am bringing in the recon lance. Hopefully, they will be the hammer to my anvil. Keep the _Thor_ off my back."

"Affirmative." Frank turned his _Night Gyr_ to head off the Falcon heavy. He could see the merits in Descartin's plan, but he also knew that their main force was bending under the pressure of the clan assault mechs. At this point, they needed a miracle, or at the very least Benny and his warriors in the spare mechs.

The _Thor_ fired its PPC, the bolt of artificial lightning slamming into the right torso of the _Night Gyr_, frying electrical circuits throughout the mech. Flak rounds from the LB-X cannon nibbled away at the armour, but failed to get into the internals, while the LRMs made pockmarks on the mech's legs and arms.

Ignoring the smell of smoke in his cockpit, Frank replied with his lasers, the beams lighting up the immediate area as they struck the _Thor_, evaporating armour and sending clouds of metal vapour into the air.

He could hear a dull roar behind him as the recon lance finally attacked, facing a _Man O'War_, another _Turkina_, and a _Loki_. The three clanners thought they had the upper hand until Descartin sent two heavy laser shots into the back of the _Man O'War_, damaging its engine shielding and gyro.

The main force was slowly crumpling under the hideous firepower unleashed against them. Glancing at his status screens, Frank could see that Pash and Tim had already ejected from their mechs.

The Falcons were not unscathed either, having lost a _Masakari_ to Kety's brutally effective laser fire. But there was still more than enough fight left in the clanners to crush the mercs.

Frank, getting desperate, simply dashed into medium range against the _Thor_, and fired all his weapons in a last ditch alpha strike to try to get to the Falcons' rear. Autocannon rounds and laser blasts sizzled through the air as they wrought more damage on the _Thor_. Two of his lasers missed, flying off into the distance, as did one autocannon salvo. The rest hit, but failed to significantly weaken the clanner.

And Frank knew he had made a mistake, as klaxons and warning lights came on all over his console. Blasts of superheated steam streamed into the cockpit, scalding his skin before swept away by the overworked fans. He slammed down on two override switches, knowing that to shut down _now_ was akin to committing suicide. Thankfully, the mech obeyed his commands, and continued to move.

The _Thor_ had no such problems with heat, and continued to blast away with its full armament, shaving off layer after layer of armour off the _Night Gyr_.

Barely keeping his mech upright, Frank frantically tried to twist his mech around to avoid the worst of the enemy fire. He suppressed the urge to call for help, knowing that the others are having their own problems, and that no help would be forthcoming.

It was a full ten more seconds before his mech had cooled down enough for him to retaliate. By now, the _Thor _had closed to almost point blank range, pouring fire into the _Night Gyr_, which was taking internal hits to the legs and the arms, but thankfully for Frank not destroying any of the weapons. He lost his right foot actuator, though, slowing the mech down to a maximum speed of about fifty kph.

Snarling his teeth in rage, Frank jumped his mech over the _Thor_ in a surprising move. The clanner was slow to react to Frank's rapid movement, and as Frank landed behind the turning _Thor_, he fired every weapon he had. This time, he got lucky.

He managed to connect with all his short range weapons, and most importantly, both autocannon salvos went into the back of the _Thor_, followed by pulses of energy from his lasers. Puffs of smoke started coming out of the engine, and a terrible rattling sound could be heard coming from the omnimech even from Frank's cockpit as the _Thor_ collapsed from engine and gyro failure.

Frank gave a feral grin, exulting at his success before moving forward as fast as he can to catch up with the main battle. He hoped that the recon lance together with Descartin would be able to deal with the three rearguard clanners. His mech would be much more useful in attacking the enemy mechs from the rear.

The main battle had shifted more than a kilometre towards the _Nile_ while he had been duelling with the _Thor_. Pushing his throttle forward, he quickly got into range of his ER large lasers, and made a quick assessment of the situation.

He was surprised to see that the lines had fully collapsed, with the mercs and the clanners engaged in a close quarters melee. One of the Rangers' _Griffin_s had its leg destroyed, and was currently propping itself up on one arm and providing highly inaccurate, but valuable all the same, supporting fire from its PPC. The rest of the mercs were putting a premium on evasive manoeuvres, or getting in close to kick out at the Falcons. Not at all encouraging for Frank.

Hamirah's _Stalker _was on the ground, shifting around trying to regain its feet, but the lack of arms made the pilot's task very difficult. Frank saw a _Kingfisher_ standing over the Ranger CO, preparing to fire one last volley.

Uttering a quick prayer, Frank quickly lined up a shot for his battery of ER lasers, hoping that Lady Luck, or perhaps even God, would smile on him sufficiently for his shots to hit at seven hundred and fifty meters, at the very extreme range for his weapons.

_You may hate me now, but everybody's important if we're going to get through this war. _Frank mashed down hard on his trigger for his secondary targeting interlock circuit, which fires all his ER lasers.

Three emerald beams lashed out, only one of them hitting the _Kingfisher_'s right leg. But it was enough to save Hamirah, as the _Kingfisher_ collapsed to the ground with its leg severed at the knee. Previous battle damage had already stripped all the armour from that limb, leaving it vulnerable to Frank's attack.

"Captain Rasouf, we can't hold out much longer!" Frank yelled at her as he picked up the pace again, closing in behind the Falcons. One _Gladiator_ turned its attentions from the shattered _Lineholder _it had been slowly tearing into pieces to Frank's approach. "Damn it! We need Benny and his men now! Get them in here!"

The _Gladiator_ fired, its own heavy autocannon blowing off the _Night Gyr_'s left arm. Frank fired his jumpjets in a desperate evasion move as the _Stalker_ got to its feet, launching a flight of SRMs at the clanner.

"No!" Captain Rasouf replied stubbornly as her _Stalker_ continued its desperate attack, lasers blazing at the clanner.

The _Gladiator_ turned responded in kind, its autocannon smashing aside armour plates on the _Stalker_. A bolt of man-made lightning flashed from its right arm, ready to devour the internal components of the _Stalker_.

Only to be stopped by Frank's _Night Gyr_, as he raised his mech's right arm to intercept the shot. A follow up laser blast slammed into the cockpit.

Frank was momentarily blinded by the hit, his eyeballs overloaded by the amount of intense light energy pumped into his cockpit. His arm was bleeding, the head armour insufficient to keep the full force of the shot from penetrating the cockpit.

"Come on, Captain! What would you accept before bringing them in? My death? Or yours?" Frank raged as he fired his own autocannon in reply, the wild shot missing completely. "I've already bled for you. What else do you want? The death of your men? _What else do you want?_" He yelled.

Frank swore he could hear her grinding her teeth before replying. "All right, dammit! You win!" Frank heard over his headset, as Hamirah begun another attack on the _Gladiator_. "Benny, you reading me? Get your butt in here ASAP!"

Just as the _Gladiator _was about to finish off the _Night Gyr_, a gauss round punched through its rear armour, followed by a steady stream of energy flechettes. The _Gladiator_'s torso telescoped downwards around its legs as its internal structure lost all integrity.

"Why, Captain, you had only to ask," Benny came in sarcastically, "I know we should have waited, but this was really too important. Thanks for the orders anyway." His newly acquired _Daishi_ lumbered into view, followed by an _Enforcer III_.

The Falcons, realizing that the odds were no longer in their favour, turned to retreat. A _Kingfisher_ held the back door open against the new arrivals as the Falcons dashed away from the field as fast as they can. The surviving mercs, emboldened by the arrival of Benny and his men, begun jeering at the running Falcons over the open frequency.

As they ran past Frank's mech, Frank was astounded to realize that they did not take a single shot at him. He resisted the urge to fire at the retreating mechs. The battle was over. He was too drained, both physically, mentally, and emotionally to do more than listen to the cheers of the mercs.

"Hah, they are running!" Kily laughed. "Jerks! Running with their tails between their legs. This'll teach you to mess with us!"

A cheer went up amongst the mercs, as the battered mechs of the recon lance appeared, with Descartin's almost unrecognisable _Nova Cat _at their lead.

Against all odds, they had prevailed again.

_Dropship _Nile_, In Atmospheric Transit _

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

Frank groaned at the butcher's bill in front of him. Just when he thought things were getting better, reality would always find a way to knock him down again.

The group had been hammered hard in the day's fighting. Pash Balaji had been killed when his ejection seat was shot down by one of the clanners. His _Puma_ and Tim's _Gunslinger_ were destroyed so completely that they were unsalvageable. The rest of the mechs had the techs screaming with oncoming nightmares of overtime work.

The good news was that Hamirah had reluctantly agreed to a truce between her and Frank. It had taken a long talk by Descartin Winters after the battle before she finally agreed to the exchange. This had paved the way for the mercs to exchange equipment, ammunition, and most importantly, the key machine in the Rangers' dropship.

Frank had no idea how the Goliath Scorpion Seeker had managed to coax her to the negotiating table, but he was grateful all the same.

Frank had agreed to exchange the _Daishi_, _Wasp_, _Enforcer III_, and the _Stalker_ for the key machine, which had initially sent the other Raiders into fits of apoplexy. Some quick talking and persuasion, as well as a bit of literal arm twisting by Lorik convinced everyone that this was a good deal.

The fact remained that they have had good salvage from the field. The _Turkina_, _Cauldron-Born_, and the _Kingfisher _had been recovered sans several key parts, but the techs had assured him that they would be able to cobble something from the rest of the mech junk they had collected to get the mechs fully operational.

The rest of the Raiders wanted to stay long enough to give Pash a proper burial, but Frank had argued for a quick lift to find the Ragged Ones, who disappeared quite close to where Pidge's Pigs had lost their key machine to the Falcons. The Falcon Binary which had won was still in the area, according to the latest reports, searching for the Ragged Ones. By getting there, they could hopefully get both machines, which would save a great deal of time.

Time which the mercs on Einstein were now short of. More than three regiments of mercenaries had been killed or captured by Clan Jade Falcon, and it seemed that more and more resources are being brought to bear on the most irksome units.

Of which Frank's group definitely is one. He thought Lizabet Danforth must be getting sick and tired of reading reports on their victories.

Their best chance for long term survival would be to find the alien base. With it, any price could be negotiated for passage back to the Inner Sphere. Deserk and Decartin might not agree, but Frank could really see no other way out of their present predicament.

Hamirah Rasouf and her unit had agreed to rendezvous at the alien base site once Frank had found it. The more troops they have there, the greater their bargaining power.

Or so he hoped.

He looked up at Kety, who had passed him the initial report from the techs. The lanky Dragoon mechwarrior was doing a fine job of commanding their battle lance, but Pash's death had seemed to shaken him. He slumped a bit, the loss of a lancemate, especially one under his command, had affected him quite a bit.

"You want to talk to me, Kety?" Frank asked.

"Yes. Frank, put someone else in charge of the battle lance."

"Why?" Frank sighed, and placed the report on his table with his uninjured arm. "Because Pash died? If that was true, then I should let someone else take over too, since I wasn't doing my job as a company commander."

"I'm not saying you weren't doing a good job…"

"But the truth is that I wasn't prepared for this role, much like you weren't. Damn it, who else can take over? Not Geenan, you have experience and seniority over her. Not Tim, because he simply lacks your tactical awareness. And not Gerhard, because he is too aggressive."

"You could let Deserk take over."

"Deserk doesn't want to, and he says he made a mash of things while he was with the Nova Cats as a Star Commander, and Descartin Winters confirms this. Face it. It's Hobson's Choice out here." Frank leaned back, trying to hint to Kety the end of their short discussion.

"Yes sir." Kety sounded resigned to his fate, rather than accepting the assignment willingly. "Permission to leave, sir."

"Granted."

As Kety left the medical bay, Frank rubbed his weary eyes. Commanding a company was as difficult as he had imagined it would be. He looked over to Jadine Sheik's bed, where the Dragoon captain was lying in her coma.

_Wake up soon, Captain._ He thought._ I'm not sure how long I can keep on running this show._


	20. Stale Mate

_Drop Zone Phi,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

_10th March 3068_

Ian Dorlacen tapped his throttle with his finger nervously as he waited for the arrival of the Falcons. The day had started off typically, with the Falcon commander Daniela Mattlov issuing yet another challenge with all her forces. Ian had replied that he would respond similarly with _all_ of his forces.

He knew it was a bit underhand of him to neglect mentioning that his force had increased by exactly two elemental points, but he figured he needed all the favors he could get. If Star Captain Mattlow did not bother to ask him for his force composition because she thought she already knew it, well, that was her own mistake.

This time, he had set up his remaining infantry in a relatively exposed position, on one of the hilltops surrounding the Star League base. Armed with spare LRM racks originally meant for repairing the mechs, they were to serve as decoys for the enemy toads. Ian had also used the last of his command detonated mines in the area surrounding the infantry. Hopefully the Falcon commander would oblige him by sending only her elementals to deal with his infantry. Foot sloggers were meant for each other, after all.

Just moments earlier, his vehicle company had once again drawn the attention of the Falcons, but this time only three mechs set out in pursuit.

_Maybe we hurt them more than we thought._ Ian quickly checked with his recon lance commander.

"Hong, how many enemy mechs has your _Raven_ picked up?"

"Only eleven mechs sir. I'm still looking for the other four. They must be out here somewhere." Hong sounded worried, and Ian did not blame him one bit.

"Keep an eye out for them, but get ready to join in the battle."

"Roger. Hong out."

Thanks to the efforts of Pascal and his techs, they were able to receive the Falcons with all eleven of their mechs fully operational. Not for the first time, Ian was glad that he had managed to prize Pascal away from the Dragoons support staff five years ago to serve as his tech chief. The man was worth every C-Bill Ian paid him.

They had not made any headway into how the key machines worked, but they had been informed by Frank Meronac that a real physicist was working on it. This was quite a relief to Pascal, who had been completely stumped by the strange technology. This had also enabled him to put his full attention into getting their mechs repaired.

"Sir, Falcons approaching. _Masakari_ in the lead." Hong came in again. "Want us to engage?"

"Negative. Pull back and wait for their elementals to fall for the bait first."

Daniela Mattlov moved her _Warhawk_ forward with purpose, the elementals clinging on for their dear lives as the omnimech sprinted at top speed towards the Lancers, with seven other mechs behind it, all laden with elementals.

Not for the first time, she cursed Orden. If the sibbies had not beaten up the techs, she would have been attacking with her full mech strength, not 70% as was the case now. With three mechs detached to run down the enemy vehicles, that left her only eight mechs against the Lancers' eleven.

Her sensors picked up the Lancer mechs, waiting in the midst of rocky terrain. They also detected infantry movements a kilometer away, standing alongside what seemed to be large boxes, but turned out to be LRM launchers when she magnified the image.

_What does their CO intend? _She could see two options. One was to send the fastest mech she had to flush out the infantry. With her fastest mechs all chasing the Lancer vehicles, her next fastest mech was a _Cougar_. With her mech strength already depleted, she could not afford to attack with anything less than eight mechs.

That left only her elementals to engage the infantry. In all fairness, they were actually the best at facing the LRM launchers. The rocky terrain would offer them plenty of cover to get close to the enemy infantry without getting hit too much by the missiles.

She knew she was reacting yet again to some unknown plan of Ian Dorlacen's, but again she had little choice. If she used the full force of her eight mechs and the two stars of elementals with her in her attack on the mechs of the Arch Lancers, it would be severe breach of honor in the eyes of her commanders, even one as liberal as Lizabet Danforth.

She was getting tired of the stringent rules of engagement laid down by the clan. While it had become acceptable to concentrate fire on a single target, overwhelming firepower against the enemy was still frowned upon throughout the clan.

But it was a real weakness that could be exploited by a canny opponent. And Ian Dorlacen of the Arch Lancers was one such opponent.

Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Daniela gave the orders for the elementals to attack the infantry. Sensing another trap, she sent her Elementals in two waves. The second star will trail behind the first in case the approach is mined, ready to attack from another direction.

Elementals would be quite ineffectual against the enemy mechs, especially if combat was being waged at a distance in open ground. Better to tie up the enemy infantry. She did not want the Lancers to draw her mechs into the range of those LRM launchers.

The elementals quickly disembarked from the mechs they were hitching rides on, and scooted off towards the enemy launchers, utilizing their jump packs to quickly cover the ground. It would not be long before they are forced to move among the rocks to avoid the LRM fire.

As her mech advanced forward, she placed her targeting cursor over the nearest enemy mech, which was the brick-shaped _Awesome_ she had tangled with in the previous battle.

"Ready to resume our battle, Major?" She asked before loosing two streams of charged particles at the enemy mech, followed by a salvo of energy darts from one of her large pulse lasers.

"Eagerly." The answer came as the _Awesome _adroitly sidestepped the attack, having anticipated her actions. Only the pulse laser hit, causing rivulets of molten armor to flow down the left flank.

The _Awesome_ struck back with a vengeance, four artificial lightning bolts flashing from their barrels at her _Warhawk_. One missed the legs by several meters splattering the rocks with its energy. Another just whizzed by above her cockpit. The third beam hit her right torso, but she had plenty of armor to spare there, while the last beam struck one of her legs.

Her force was fully engaged with the Arch Lancers, both sides exchanging volleys of PPC, laser, autocannon, and missile fire. Some Lancer mechs ganged up on her mechs, while some of her own troops were also concentrating fire on the mercenaries. It was now simply a question of who could inflict the most damage in the shortest time.

"Star Captain." It was her elemental commander, Olager. "We have run into stiff opposition. It turns out that the immediate are leading to the enemy infantry is laden with mines. We are trapped here. My men are working to clear a path, but it will take time. They have several anti-elemental snipers hidden among the rocks, picking off my men as they work." The whining sound of discharging lasers could be heard in the background. "Request permission to bring in Jerdy's elementals!"

"Granted, Star Commander." She answered, for once delighted with her initial assessment of the situation. "Make them pay."

Ian would have realized that his infantry was only holding out against one elemental star, but he was too busy fending off the fearsome attacks of the _Masakari_. Wrenching his control stick to the right, he twisted the _Awesome_ from yet another of the _Masakari_'s deadly blasts. Two PPC shots sent furrows along his mech's left arm, while the laser darts peppered his front.

He was worried about the missing enemy mechs, but with every minute that they failed to appear, the more he was convinced that the Falcons had been unable to fully repair the damage wrought days ago.

While this weakened the Falcons, they were still more than a match for the Lancers. But the fact that he had a three mech advantage meant that simple attrition would favor his troops.

Not that he wanted matters to get that far. A battle of attrition was too costly for both victor and vanquished, and he wanted to avoid one at all costs. He only wanted to inflict enough damage to offer hegira to Daniela. A offer which she could not reject.

He blasted with his array of PPCs, scouring armor all over the _Masakari_. Try as he might, he just wasn't getting the same easy shots as in the previous battle. The _Masakari_ pilot was weaving her mech left and right, reducing her chances of getting hit by Ian's marksmanship but lowering her own accuracy as well.

Zellbrigen had been thrown out the airlock, as six Lancer mechs unleashed a storm of laser fire at a clan medium. The _Nova_ twisted as ammunition explosions flung the mech onto the ground, the murderous fire too much for even clan mechs to withstand. There was an ejection, and even Ian hoped the pilot had survived.

The clanners exacted revenge of their own, shearing both arms off the _Rifleman_ before dropping it with a blast straight into the middle of the mech. The _Rifleman_ collapsed as a blast from the head signaled the ejection of the Lancer pilot. Thankfully for Ian, the Falcons did not fire on the exposed pilot.

"Pull back!" Ian shouted as he turned his attention for a moment to a _Cougar_ that had strayed too close to his _Awesome _while dueling with a _Fire Falcon_. He grinned as two of his PPCs cored the mech, not putting it down but leaving its internals open to further attack. The infrared image of the clan mech flared, indicating that it had sustained engine damage as well. It would not survive for long.

The rest of the Arch Lancers edged back slowly, past the ruins of the Star League base they had ransacked days ago. The Falcons pursued cautiously, wary of hidden traps.

_It ain't gonna help you much._ Ian grinned as he continued walking his _Awesome_ backwards. The _Cougar _he had mangled a while ago suddenly charged at his Awesome with all guns blazing, followed closely by the _Masakari _which was firing its full arsenal of PPCs and large pulse lasers at Ian's mech. Ian was too surprised by the Falcon's bravado to react immediately.

Chunks of armor flew off and streams of molten alloy flowed down the _Awesome_ as the Falcons unloaded everything they had on the Lancer mech. Ian replied almost immediately with another salvo right into the _Cougar_, this time destroying its engine completely, but he knew was basically a show of defiance at this point.

Ian's mech staggered under the ruinous assault, and he did not even bother to fight against gravity. The damage sustained by the _Awesome_ was simply too much.

Having braced himself for the impact, Ian still had his breath knocked out of his lungs when the 80 ton mech hit the ground, sending a minor tremor through the area. Gasping for air, straining against his seat straps, he started trying to get his mech upright again, at the same time checking his status screens.

What he saw was not good. The mech was lit up like a Christmas tree, with only pieces of armor left scattered all over. Some shots had even gone into the mech's internals, destroying heat sinks but thankfully nothing else. He was going to have to watch his heat from then on.

All around Ian's fallen _Awesome_, the Arch Lancers rallied to their fallen commander, trading shot after blistering shot with the Jade Falcons as Ian tried to get his _Awesome_ standing.

Another explosion signaled the loss of his _Crusader_ just as the _Awesome_ got to its feet, the heavy mech falling to the ground with both its legs severed at the knee, victim of the Falcons' deadly marksmanship. The pilot did not eject.

Once he got the _Awesome_ in a kneeling position, he fired two PPCs at the nearest target, a _Thor_ with paired lasers. Only one arc of lightning hit, leaving the armor there more memory than metal. The _Thor _staggered, then eased off from its assault, keeping its distance from the Lancers.

The _Awesome _stumbled to its feet, the rest of the Lancers intentionally throwing their mechs in front of it to prevent shots from hitting it. To Ian, though, this was not part of his plan.

"Damn it! Continue to pull back! We have to drag them nearer the base!" By his estimates, the Falcon mechs were only fifty meters away from the not-so-abandoned base.

Despite the damage her forces were inflicting on the Lancers, Daniela was beginning to feel penned in. The armor on her mechs was now mostly scattered on the ground or vaporized, and internal damage was being reported. The mercenaries were in equally bad shape, but they still had nine mechs to her six remaining.

Combat Loss Groupings, or CLG for short, was essential knowledge for any battlemech commander. Mech effectiveness and durability was much related to the condition of the unit as a whole. There had been plenty of stories about outnumbered mech units fighting ferociously for more than an hour without losing a mech. Once it lost a mech, however, damage would be accelerated quickly to the detriment of the outnumbered side, usually leading to a complete rout. This was mostly due to the ability of the side with more mechs to concentrate and draw fire more easily. The destruction of the Smoke Jaguars was one vivid example of the effects of CLG. Even clan mechs, as powerful as they are, were not immune to its effects.

And CLG was beginning to tell on her unit. The accursed _Awesome_, which had managed to get back on its feet, was leading the Lancers back again, their retreat a few moments back halted when it went down and the mercs rallied to their commander in a show of solidarity that impressed Daniela.

Glancing outside her cockpit at the abandoned Star League base for an instant, Daniela was inexplicably seized by a sense of shame. She had a sudden feeling of _wrongness_, as if the place was not meant for them to fight over.

Shaking off the strange emotion, she wrenched her attention back to the battle. The Falcons were now all near the base, using the structure for cover. Daniela studied the situation while firing constantly with her pulse lasers, judging the best time for a final charge while the emerald darts peppered an enemy _Raven_. The Inner Sphere light mech shook off the damage, moving away from the deadly _Warhawk_.

There was a sudden thump from her mech's left shoulder. A cry came over the comms.

"Elementals!"

Daniela did not hesitate. Instinctively, she pushed the _Warhawk_ to the ground, then rolled the mech over, using the long barrels of her PPCs as leverage. The elemental obliged her by stopping its attack on her armor, lifting off on its jumpjets to latch onto another mech, an _Executioner_.

Its compatriots were not idle either, firing their full weaponry of SRMs and lasers at the _Executioner_ that was their main target. Five of them clambered onto the assault mech, one of them daring enough to jump immediately to the cockpit. The others continued to fire their weapons from the Star League base.

Before the other Falcons could react to the sudden appearance of elementals in the battle, the Lancers advanced, taking advantage of the Falcons' sudden preoccupation with the new enemy in their midst.

40 LRM missiles from the _Archer_ crashed into Star Commander Jedec's _Thor_, their accuracy greatly aided by the Artemis fire control system. The _Thor_ staggered, then jumped forward, trying to get within the _Archer_'s minimum range for its missiles.

Daniela knew immediately what had happened, For reasons best known to himself, Drenner and his troops had thrown in with the Lancers. The most likely reason, judging from his psych report, was his constant urge for action.

"Jump, Werrel!" Daniela shouted. The _Executioner_ would be able to shake off its tormentors by jumping. The mech flailed its arms about, the torso turning this way then that, trying to shake off the elementals, as they clung on tenaciously. The most tenacious of all was the one stuck like an offending pie on the broad face of the _Executioner_, tearing off pieces of head armor with its claw.

She saw a burst of light near the cockpit of the _Executioner_ before she got the _Warhawk_ fully upright again. She did not need to get closer to confirm that Werrel was dead, killed in his cockpit.

Her headset crakled with an incoming transmission. "Star Captain! This is Olager. We have turned the tables on the surat infantry, and they are pinned down right now." This was very good news.

Her mechs were in retreat, but with the elemental-infested base in their path, they had nowhere to go. She formed them up into a circle, ready for a last stand. It would not come to that however.

If she guessed correctly, the enemy commander would be contacting her soon for some hard bargaining. She smiled ruefully. _Who would have guessed that the two consecutive battles would both result in stalemates?_

Ian swore bitterly as Lieutenant Wick reported the present dire state of the Lancer infantry. Nobody could have foreseen that the Falcons would detach a force as a reserve to strike from an unsuspected direction. It was an Inner Sphere tactic that everyone assumes the clans would not use.

It was a moot point now. A lull had fallen over the battle, as the elementals hid in the abandoned base, the Falcons formed a tight perimeter around their position, and the Lancers formed up on one line facing the Falcons. The Falcons had only five mechs left against the Lancer's battered nine. There was no doubt about the outcome if the battle continued.

He opened a channel to the _Masakari_.

"Well, Star Captain Mattlov, it seems we are at an impasse yet again. It seems we are always getting stuck against each other."

He heard soft laughter. "Indeed. I have your infantry, about twenty of them, trapped by my elementals, while I am trapped by you here. Care to trade with your infantry?"

"Sorry. My men will kill me if I order them in as foot grunts." Despite himself, Ian found himself grinning. "Listen, you offered me hegira before. Now's my turn. Nobody else needs to die today. You let my men, while I let you go."

"Are you certain? Twenty lives for five clan mechs? Are the lives of your men that important to you?"

"Yes." Ian closed his eyes, recalling the memory of Captain Sachin dying in the medical bay. He opened his eyess. "I don't care how people see it. My only objective is to survive. Destroying your unit is only one means to that end. If another could be found, all the better."

"The salvage?"

"Mine. You can have the LRM launchers, or whatever is left there. After all, I hold the field here, and I've given you a large concession by letting you go. I am, in the end, an honorless mercenary. Money is everything to me."

He heard a snort, then her voice in a respectful tone. "You lie. I will be certain to fight harder for a victory the next time. You would make a fine bondsman to Clan Jade Falcon."

Ian raised an eyebrow. _That _statement was one of the highest accolades a clanner could give to an Inner Sphere warrior.

She continued, "Your offer of hegira is accepted. We shall retreat to our dropships now," she paused, "Oh, and tell Star Commander Drenner that he had better be prepared to face the Galaxy Commander when he returns."

The exhausted Lancers trooped back to their dropship. The loss of Ronnie Fensen and his _Crusader_ had immediately dispersed the euphoria that came when Ian announced the Falcon's withdrawal.

Their disappointment disappeared as quickly as the euphoria earlier when they spied two dropships beside the _Battle's Bane_.

The dropships of Winslet's Warriors.

"So, what brings you over?" Ian asked Captain Karen Winslet in his office room as he poured her a cold beer, taken straight from his personal fridge. "I thought we were supposed to meet up with your unit, not you coming over."

Supplies were running low, except for beer, which Ian had brought along in excess amounts. It was not Timbiqui Dark or anything expensive though, just simple cheap beer that would not burn too big a hole in the Lancers' finances. Ian felt the morale boost from having ample beer outweighed the costs, so he had always ensured the Lancers would have enough on a campaign.

The auburn haired mechcommander took a swig from her mug before answering with a shrug, "Details, details. Maybe I just came over for some free alcohol?"

Ian sighed. "Never serious, are you? Like back…"

"Back on Caph when my Warriors tangled with a combined arms merc company for the first time and got our asses whipped?" She laughed. "Of course, we got some payback on Pleione, didn't we?"

Ian looked at her, waiting for her to get to official business.

It took a while for her to quiet down. She spoke in a somber tone. "Ok Ian, it's like this. My boys have torn up the clanners pretty good, but we running low on strength. My aerospace squad is down two fighters, and I have only ten mechs left, two of them salvage from the battle. We've got a battle scheduled for tomorrow, and I want to hand you the key machine in case we lose."

"You won't lose. I should know, our units have fought together and against each other enough times for me to say you have a good chance."

"That's not the point. The point is the key machines are the most valuable piece of lostech on this rock right now. We just can't let the clans get their hands on any more advance tech." She paused. "I fought on Tukayyid, remember? I saw how terrifying it was to fight against mechs that were tougher, stronger and faster than anything else on the battlefield. The Inner Sphere spent the last 15 years catching up, and now that we've gotten ourselves level, we aren't going to hand them another tech advantage so quickly! No, you take the machine, and go to the coordinates Frank sent you to search out the alien base. The sooner you find it, the better."

Ian's ears perked up. "You are going to give it to me just like that?"

"I think we've been enemies and friends long enough for me to trust you. I've got a feeling we're all involved in something that's bigger than ourselves, bigger than this war." She stood up, walking over to Ian, who was sitting on his bed.

She sat down beside him, and leaned close. "And I was hoping that maybe you'll indulge me the one thing we haven't done together yet." She literally purred, instantly sending Ian's heart pounding hard in his chest. His face flushed a bright red. She grinned like a predator eying its prey.

Ever since they met on Caph, Karen Winslet had been trying to get into Ian's pants. It was common knowledge in both their units that the former Com Guard had a thing for the Lancer commander. Interestingly, it never showed when the Warriors faced the Lancers in battle. However, affairs between the two mech units were often as civil as possible, even in the oft-tense Chaos March, becoming more akin to a chess match as the two commanders maneuvered around for a victory. Ian often won, but he always returned salvaged mechs and pilots back to the Warriors for discount prices. The Warriors reciprocated in kind whenever they won. They were often at their best when operating together, as certain astute employers had done. Despite this, however, Ian and Karen had resisted the urge to combine their units, as they both wanted to lead merc units of their own. It was this reason, more than any other, that kept them apart.

Ian leaned away, trying to maintain his distance. "Hey, let's keep our manners, shall we?"

"Come on, Ian." She placed her arms around his head, preventing him from withdrawing further. "This is something I've wanted to do for a long time. Treat it as something in exchange for the key machine."

Ian gulped once, then ducked under her arms. "Karen," he continued patiently, "we're both commanders. What sort of image will this send to our people?"

"That we're as human as they are? That we have feelings too? Stop being scared of this. Don't worry, I've taken contraceptives. There won't be any royal scandal, Ian whose-surname-is-not-Dorlacen."

Ian gaped for an instance, before replying. "I have no idea what you mean."

"Don't try to fool me. I know fully well who you are."

"And who am I exactly? Who else knows?"

"Relax. Only one other person knows, John Fish, and he's dead." At Ian's look of suspicion, she hastened to add. "He was killed by the Falcons."

"Fish was from the Capellan March world of Warren, where he was part of the CMM. He had a photographic memory, and when he saw your picture in our records, he got curious, and asked me how I came to know you."

She shrugged. "I told him about the times we've met, and how the Warriors would be the best merc unit in the Chaos March if not for you guys. In turn, he told me who you really are, or more accurately, were."

"Fish told me he liked to watch documentaries, and with his photographic memory, he was able to remember a great deal of stuff. He remembered seeing someone who looks a lot like you in a popular show on his homeworld about missing nobles and the Periphery. Katrina Steiner, the first one I mean, Maurice Avellar, the Calderon heirs, etc."

Ian opened his mouth to speak, but was hushed by Karen, who held a finger to his lips. "I didn't want to believe him, so I rang up a few favours from my contacts in Comstar. Turns out he was right."

"So now you know. That doesn't change anything. I didn't want to be placed in a position where people might think I was a power hungry son who had no regard for his parents. I had my own dreams. I followed them, and I've achieved them."

"I'm not blaming you for what you did. After all, if you hadn't run away, we wouldn't have met." She placed her head on his shoulder. "Let's enjoy what we have, alright? Leave the future, the problems to tomorrow. You'll set off early in the morning, so let's not waste time any longer."

"You sure you're not doing this just so you can claim to have done it with me on some scandal vid?" He looked straight at her, for the first time allowing himself to drown in her eyes.

"I admit to you I'm scared, Ian." She hugged herself. Ian put his arms around her, concerned that she was finally showing cracks in her composure. "I've got a feeling I'll die tomorrow. I just don't want to go out without having spent some quality time with somebody I like. Grant me this much, okay?"

"You won't die, Karen." Ian pulled her close. "Let's give you one good reason not to, ok?

The lights in the office room went out.


	21. Wild Rush

_Drop Zone Theta,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

_12th March 3068_

The Raiders/Dragoons had landed near the Ragged One's abandoned dropship. For two days, they had been scouring the dropship and the surrounding area for clues to the missing mercs' location, as well as repairing their mechs, savaged in the previous battle.

For Deserk, it was a welcome break from the hectic preparation and combat of the past week. No challenges had been issued yet from the Falcons, although he was aware that one could arrive at any minute, and with the battle to take place immediately after the challenge.

Running a test on one of his _Black Hawk_'s subsystems in the makeshift camp set up by the Ragged Ones, he heard the sound of a person approaching.

"Good morning. I see you are hard at work being a tech." Descartin Winters had a grin on his face as he walked up to one of the mech's legs.

"I'm doing this to take the load off the overworked tech crews." Deserk continued to push buttons on the calibration screen in front of him. "What about you? Aren't you supposed to be assisting the search?"

"Tsk, tsk. So many contractions. Your speech has deteriorated in the Inner Sphere, old friend." Descartin grinned.

"You didn't answer my question." Deserk pointed out.

"Aff. There are more than enough people doing the searching today. I decided to stay behind to work on my personal project, as well as keeping an eye on Lorik."

Since they had met up, the scientist had his head constantly buried in the key machines. Enquiries of progress had always met the following words, "Can you not see I am working? Now go away before I come after you with this big wrench!"

That was generally sufficient to keep most people away.

"So how's your life? We have not had a good talk like we did in the past." Deserk glanced once at the screen results, and satisfied that his mech was working fine, moved to disconnect the diagnostic wires. "Tell me about your journey through the clans."

"That is a very long tale. You sure you want to hear it?"

"Aff."

For the next twenty minutes, Descartin regaled his sibkin with his exploits with the various clans he had served with, as well as the insights he had gained. Deserk finished up his own work, and the two trudged off to a nearby shed where Tina, Des' Harbinger, was practicing with her harp.

The shed had become a semi-official gathering place, where techs off duty and warriors on rest would gather for some light entertainment by Tina. The presence of what little alcohol and caffeine the mercenaries had brought with them was one further attraction to the place.

Right now, in addition to Tina, Kety and some of the surviving tankers were present. Most of the techs were working on the mechs, and only two of them were in the shed, sipping at their hot coffee. The quiet, soothing sounds of the harp resounded through the place.

Reaching over for a jug of coffee, Deserk poured himself and Des two full mugs of the brew. The two sat down on the stools around a small table, while Des finished his tale.

"You actually ingested necrosia?" Deserk exclaimed in shock. He thought Descartin had better sense than to buy into the Goliath Scorpion theory of drug induced visions.

"Aff. For the vision rite, you see. I wonder if anyone had used necrosia for a Nova Cat vision rite before. It was very effective, effective enough to get me here."

Deserk shook his head in wonder. "You do realize that necrosia can cause addiction, and even death, quiaff? I always thought you had plenty of common sense!"

Descartin smiled reassuringly, "Do not worry. I am not addicted, and I am certainly not dead! It was simply a one-off attempt to merge both rite traditions together. Enough about my story. Tell me about yours. What happened on Luthien? The last I remembered was our Trinary engaging the Kell Hounds. I thought we had them pinned down, and that red and black _Archer _in front was going to die quickly…"

"But we just couldn't get a targeting lock." Deserk whispered. It was one memory that he knew would haunt him to his dying days. "I went in at the _Archer_, but I just couldn't hit him. It was nothing I had ever seen before.

"You were one of the first mechs to get within three hundred meters of him. That was no mean feat, considering that he was taking one of us down every twenty seconds."

"Oh yes, I got close. I was firing with my _Vulture_'s pulse lasers for all they were worth, but everything just missed. I had already taken a pounding from the other Kell Hound mechs, and that _Archer_ just picked my mech apart with its medium lasers. I ejected, and was promptly picked up by Kell Hound infantry."

Deserk paused, then added, "I never found out who that _Archer_ pilot was."

"He, or she, must be one hell of a mechwarrior." Descartin said. "I would like the chance to meet that warrior someday. And maybe gut him as payback." He continued, "The Wolf Dragoons took you in as a bondsman, quiaff?"

"Aff. It didn't take me long before I was accepted as a warrior. Since then, I have fought in many battles in the Inner Sphere. Now, I have a better idea of why the Inner Sphere fought so hard against us in the beginning."

"And that is?"

"Their lives are so rich! They have holovids, selection of foods they want, freedom of choice. As long as one has money, almost anything is possible."

"And you have money now? Getting corrupted, eh?" Des asked mischievously.

Deserk snorted. "Not getting corrupted. Just adapting to my new life. You would do the same, if you were in my shoes. The Dragoons give good pay, from what I've observed from other mercenary units. Enough for me to live quite comfortably, and have some savings for the future."

"The future?" Des was stunned. "Who cares about the future? The job of a warrior is to fight, gain glory, and hopefully die before he becomes an invalid! Whatever happened to the fierce warrior I grew up with?"

"He has changed. Changed for the better. He doesn't live for a bloodname, nor for glory and honor." Deserk smiled. "The clans offered us nothing except a cause to die for, Des. In the Inner Sphere, I have found the opposite, a cause to live for."

"I have a family now. I got myself a wife, a fellow warrior, and I have a child on the way."

Descartin nearly choked on his coffee. "You actually have a child? A freeborn? You're now a parent? I cannot believe it!"

"Better believe it. Tell you what. When this is all over, come with me back to Outreach. I'll introduce my family to you. After all, you are my brother, according to Inner Sphere customs."

Descartin made a negative gesture with his left hand. "You forget, I have a mission and an obligation to my clan. Even though the truce is over, should there not be some rule against clanners traveling past the truce line?"

Deserk waved off the objection. "No one will find out if we don't make a big deal out of it. So how about it? You'll approve of my choice of lifestyle, I'm sure."

"I think I would like to have a look at the rest of the Inner Sphere." Des gave a slow smile. "Maybe I could consider it as 'advanced scouting'!"

"Well. If you're going to the Inner Sphere, take me with you." The two warriors looked up to see the petite Harbinger Tina standing over the table. "I heard tales of the great music to be found in the Inner Sphere! There must be something I can learn there!" There were stars in her eyes as she said this. "The first Harbinger to go to the Inner Sphere! I would become famous when I return to Roche!"

"Forget it, Tina." Descartin warned her. "This is no picnic, and I doubt your caste leaders would be happy if you went off traipsing around the galaxy like that."

"How about your project, your, ahem, Great Work?" She shifted the subject quickly.

"Working on it." Descartin mumbled, obviously embarassed.

Deserk's curiosity was piqued. "What project?" Deserk asked.

Waving his hands, Descartin said, "Oh, nothing. It is just an idea from my time with the Bears. I recovered fragments of a music score during one of my quests, and I am trying to put it back together. This would be my Great Work, when it is finished."

"It's a full orchestral piece. Star Captain Descartin Winters is in way over his head." Tina retorted.

Deserk blinked in surprise. "I didn't know you knew music."

"Well, I do now. Having Tina around was a good idea, though, as she was the one who taught me the basics. I am just making up the rest as I go along."

"What's the name of the song?" Deserk finished the last of his coffee.

"Blue Sea Laughter." Descartin winced, waiting for the inevitable laughter, and was surprised to see Deserk sitting calmly with a smile.

"I'm not the only one who has changed. You have changed as well. All you would think about in the past was combat and fighting."

Tina interjected, "That is still all he thinks about most of the time. I have to push him not to slack off on his work." She ignored Des' glare of indignation.

A sudden explosion took away Des' reply.

Everybody in the shed quickly dove to the ground, conditioned by years of training. Sounds of autocannon fire shrieked through the air.

"What the heck is going on?" Deserk yelled.

"I don't know!" Des answered, his formal speech lapsing into contractions. "Get to our mechs, now!"

Deserk and Descartin crash-started their mechs, the urgency of the situation precluding the normal slow start, which would preserve engine life. The crash start method had the unfortunate tendency of greatly shortening engine lifespan, which was why mechwarriors used it only in emergencies.

As they got their mechs moving, the transmissions coming from the other mechs were enough to inform them of the situation.

While the mechs of the mercenaries had been searching for the Ragged Ones, Bryan's _Fenris_ had finally picked up fusion engine signatures from a cave near the dropships.

Moving closer to confirm his find, he had to backpedal quickly when a _Mauler_ came out shooting. The autocannon the mercs had heard were the light AC/2s of the _Mauler_ engaging Bryan's _Fenris_.

As they moved out, they were joined by Frank's half-repaired _Night Gyr_, Kety's _Gallowglas_, and Liase's _Battlemaster_. The rest of the mechs had been sent on a wide dispersal search, and all of them were converging rapidly on the site of the battle. It would be several minutes before they were able to arrive, however, so it was up to the five mechs to assist Bryan.

Coming up near Bryan, they saw him fighting a brilliant withdrawal action, staying at a distance from the enemy mechs, and slowly picking them apart with his PPC.

There was a lot of enemy fire, however, and much to their surprise, the _Fenris _was almost bereft of armor when they finally spied the enemy force.

The most shocking fact was that the attacking mechs were painted with the insignia of the Ragged Ones.

"Cease fire, cease fire!" Frank was yelled over the open channel.

"Useless, boss! I've already tried that, but they didn't say anything, and they kept on shooting at me!" Bryan shouted back.

The _Mauler_ shot again at the _Fenris_, and Descartin watched in amazement as the autocannon rounds actually _seemed to curve in flight_ to hit Bryan's Omnimech!

"And watch out, they have precision rounds for their ACs!" Bryan finally pushed his mech out of range, since the others had arrived to take the heat.

"What the heck are precision rounds_?_" Des was bewildered by the comment.

"Rounds the NAIS boys cooked up, which could track targets!" Frank answered Des.

_Huh? Rounds which could track targets? _Descartin had heard of advances in Inner Sphere weapon technology, but this was completely unexpected! _Maybe Deserk's offer to go to Outreach is not such a bad idea at all. There must be even more toys that the Inner Sphere scientists had cooked up that the clan can adopt and use._

Turning his attention back to the fight, he fired his dual PPCs, the shots slamming into the _Mauler_'s right arm and left torso.

"What's up with these guys? Don't they know we're on their side?" Kety was firing his weapons at an enemy _Jagermech_ in a boxing pattern, the shots keeping the enemy mech off balance.

"Who the hell cares? I need some help here!" Liase's _Battlemaster _was enduring fire from two enemy mechs, another _Jagermech_ and a _Victor_. From the looks of things, her mech would not last long.

Qing's _Thor_ arrived on a slashing attack on the enemy flanks, blindsiding an _Enforcer II_ with his LRMs, LB-X autocannon and extended-range PPC. The Federated Suns produced mech toppled to the ground under the vicious assault. It immediately begun to try to regain his footing.

Descartin braced himself for the _Mauler_'s counter-assault, consisting of its full armament of LRMs, lasers, and autocannon array. The missiles smashed armor plates all over the _Nova Cat_, while the one laser tore into his right leg. The autocannon rounds all hit, the precision rounds proving their deadly effectiveness.

Holding his mech steady, Descartin closed in at top speed. Once he got within the minimum range of the LRMs and the autocannons, the _Mauler_ would be at his mercy.

Meanwhile, the others were fighting hard against the Ragged Ones. Frank was staying at long range, trading shots with a _Valkyrie_ and a _Dervish_. Despite being outnumbered, his _Night Gyr_ was performing quite well with only 60% of its armor present.

It was a holding action at best until the others arrived. As Des glanced right, he saw Deserk blasting an arm off a _Blackjack _with his PPCs. The firepower of clan technology never failed to impress him, especially when facing frail Inner Sphere mechs.

Yoshino and Kily were the next to arrive. Frank quickly directed them to the _Victor_ and the _Valkyrie_ respectively. The two arrivals laid into the enemy mechs with enthusiasm, their weapons fire severely damaging their opponents. The battle was slowly turning in their favor with every new arrival.

Forsen suddenly came in. "Guys, the camp is under attack! It seems like the entire support staff of the Ragged Ones have gone mad! They're rushing the dropships!"

Quickly turning his sensors back towards their makeshift camp, Descartin saw the beginnings of a ground battle. More than a hundred screaming people were running towards the dropships.

"Bryan! Get back there and provide heavy support!" Frank ordered.

_Good call._ Des thought. The young warrior had a great deal of potential, and an instinctive knack for command. Bryan's _Fenris_ was too badly hurt to engage the main enemy force, but it should be able to clear the ragtag infantry assault easily.

One laser blast shot past his cockpit, bringing him back to the battle. Stepping within close range, he unleashed a full barrage of pulse lasers onto the towering _Mauler_.

Guided by Des' sure hand, steady eye, and an advanced targeting computer that despite astech claims of only 256 colors was the best in known space, the three medium pulse lasers and the single large pulse laser carved into the _Mauler_'s weakened left torso, blowing the entire section away. The assault mech stood in the middle of the field as an burst from the head signaled the ejection of the pilot.

As he looked around for the next target, Des was shocked when he saw the _Mauler_ pilot run into view, firing his pistol at his cockpit.

_Has every one of these mercenaries gone mad?_ Des did not want to take any chances, and fired his laser at the human target, vaporizing the man instantly.

The balance of the "Raiders of the Nile", as the motley force led by Frank and Descartin called themselves, had finally arrived, and were rapidly reducing the mechs of the Ragged Ones to scrap with concentrated firepower.

Des aimed his PPCs at the _Dervish_, sending two particle streams into one of its leg. The mech fell to the ground, while Frank quickly moved his _Night Gyr_ close to cover the downed mech.

Frank announced a countdown over his loudspeakers, but the _Dervish_ did not seem to care that Frank had his guns trained on the cockpit of the _Dervish_. The _Dervish_ raised one arm to fire at Frank, and only Des' hurried shout got Frank shooting his pulse lasers into the _Dervish_'s head. The pilot never got out.

It took barely another minute before the last mech, the enemy _Victor_ Yoshino's _Nobori-Nin_ had engaged, was finally gutted by ammunition explosions.

Likewise, Bryan's arrival at their camp had ended the enemy infantry attack. Reports were coming in of fanatic pistol-wielding people refusing to surrender and fighting to the last. No prisoners had been captured, such was the level of resistance.

Now the mechs stood around warily, while waiting for the techs to regroup and arrive at the battle site for salvage operations. Some of the mechs were recoverable, especially a _Jagermech_ with only its head blown off.

"At first, it was black killer drones. Now it's crazy killer techs. What's next? Killer bunnies?" A sarcastic Kety came in.

"Maybe not." It was Lorik. "Star Captain Descartin, the attackers traveled here with some vehicles, and we have recovered one key machine from the vehicles. It looks to have been tampered with, and there is some indication that it has been used."

"You're suggesting that the machine had something to do with this debacle?" Frank asked.

"Aff. There is something very wrong with this. This gives me several ideas, though, and I will need to go through some of the research papers before I can explain it properly. For the time, I would advise everyone to be extremely cautious of the recovered machines."

"You don't have to tell us twice!" Deserk answered, and was echoed by the other warriors.

"Let's stay around for a while, confirm that the area is secure." Frank suggested. "If there's nothing else, we head back to camp to fix up our mechs."

"Wait one, boss." It was Patrice in her _Talon_. "Uh oh. Picking up a trinary of clan mechs approaching!"

Radar contacts were being picked up on his sensors as well.

_Shit! Shit! Shit!_ Descartin viciously suppressed the urge to curse long and hard over the comms. From what he was hearing , the others were not so inclined. After the battle damage they had sustained, it was not a good idea to participate in another battle so soon, especially against clan troops.

"Attention, mercenaries. This is Star Colonel Colbert Icaza of the 7th Falcon Regulars. I challenge you to a Trial of Possession for the key machine you have retrieved from the Ragged Ones. In return, I offer the key machine I have with me should I lose. What say you?"

_A Trial of Possession? That suits us just fine._ Descartin quickly realized that they did not have to use their full force. Bargaining here would be important.

_Let us see if I can convince the Star Colonel to a Star on Star zellbrigen battle._ Descartin grinned humorlessly in the cockpit of his _Nova Cat_. Taking the last key machine in this fight would allow them access to the alien base, once they found it.

Assuming they won this fight, of course.


	22. Rule of Fives

_Drop Zone Theta,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

_12th March 3068_

Shifting around in his couch to get himself into a more comfortable position, Descartin Winters fired off a message to Frank and the other warriors.

"Frank, Deserk, leave the bargaining to me. There are too many of them for you to take on. Even if you win, it will be a Pyrrhic victory at best. I will try to get it down to a lance or star level fight, one which we have a better chance of winning. Another thing, get your remaining combat vehicles out. I will need them as insurance."

Without waiting for their replies, he opened a channel to the to the _Turkina _now facing him and the rest of the Raiders. The assault mech was backed up by a whole trinary of omnimechs, all painted bright green with the Jade Falcon insignia riding high on their shoulders.

The way the Falcons moved had him really worried. They ran gracefully, in a style that only elite warriors could achieve after years of practice. He knew his own mech piloting had often been described in the same manner, but he really could not say the same for the other warriors of the Raiders.

If it came down to an all-out fight, the Raiders would be massacred.

He had to cut down on the forces participating in the trial. With luck, he could use the old 'waste' argument to get the fight down to a five on five battle, or even better, himself against Star Colonel Colbert Icaza. As good as the Falcon officer was, Descartin had never lost to anyone in single combat, especially when he started out in a fresh mech.

Not counting that stravag _Archer_ on Luthien fifteen years back, of course.

"Star Colonel Colbert Icaza, this is Star Captain Descartin Winters, of Clan Goliath Scorpion," Des used the formal, stilted speech favored by most clansmen, "I am willing to fight you, but I need to ask you a question first. Are you true to the ways of the clans?"

He was met immediately by a sputtering Colbert. "Have the toxins you Scorpions ingest gone to your head? I am loyal to the way of the clans!"

"Then why have you sent so many warriors just to gain possession of one simple machine?" Descartin asked slyly. "We of the clans abhor waste. By sending so many omnimechs to contest our claim, you are wasting precious resources of the clans!"

Before Icaza could get a word in, Des spoke again. "To help you reduce waste, I hereby bid myself and four other mechs to defend the key machine we have just uncovered. Will you accept?" He left just a slight hint of disdain in his voice, as if doubting the honor of the Jade Falcon in accepting the challenge.

Descartin's plan was actually very simple. Goad the Falcons into a limited engagement, one in which the Raiders have a good chance of winning. After that, they would end up with a slight mech advantage, which would discourage the remaining binary of mechs from issuing another challenge. If they actually decided to challenge again, then Des would just throw zellbrigen out the window and use the full force of the Raiders, backed up by their remaining ground vehicles, against the Falcons. The point here was to buy time and hopefully conserve their mechs.

Star Colonel Colbert Icaza, not for the first time, wondered at the Galaxy Commander's sanity in her latest orders.

After thrashing a heavy armor unit two days before, he had been instructed to proceed to Site Theta to wait for the mercenaries off the _Nile_ to recover the last key machine. Once they had accomplished that, he was to challenge them immediately, and _lose_, granting them the last key machine.

Orders were explicit concerning his mechs. Any heavily damaged mech was to pull out rather than risk having it fall into the hands of the lucre warriors. Even with the salvage they were recovering from the battlefields, their supply of omnimechs were running low. His unit had been one of the few intact ones, while retrofitted Inner Sphere mechs were beginning to appear in the Galaxy's patchwork TO&E.

He had not expected the battle between the mercs to occur, and his deployment was based on facing the Raiders at their full strength, not after they had already been hammered by the crazed Ragged Ones. He knew there was something very strange in the way the Ragged Ones had fought, but it was best to let the scientists handle such matters.

The offer Descartin Winters had made was a godsend. He could in good faith commit only a star of mechs, and minimize the amount of damage his forces will suffer in their loss. He was to lose, but also lose convincingly, and bleed the Raiders in doing so. A limited engagement was really the best way to fulfill his orders.

"Your offer is quite reasonable." He answered after a short pause. "Very well, I shall fight five warriors of your choosing right here, right now. I bid myself, Star Commander Turic Helmer in a _Black Lanner_, Mechwarrior Veryn in a _Cougar_, Mechwarrior Wimo in a _Hellbringer_, and Mechwarrior Krantel in a _Viper_."

Well, it was good that Icaza had accepted the bid. But no matter how Des cut it, the Raider detachment would be hurt. The Jade Falcon force had superior mobility, which was backed up by elite warriors. The Raiders would not have the advantage of numbers this time, and must contend with superior technology and elite enemy mechwarriors.

He came to a decision. "I shall oppose you with myself, Captain Frank in a _Night Gyr_, Star Commander Jean Posavatz in a _Stormcrow_, Mechwarrior Yoshino in a _Huntsman_, and Mechwarrior Deserk in a _Nova_."

Frank's _Night Gyr_ was still missing much of its armor, while Deserk's _Nova_ had been battered during his duel with the _Blackjack_. Tonnage wise they had a ten ton advantage, but it was easily negated by the Falcon's edge in skill.

It had been an agonizing decision between Frank, Gerhard, Kety, and Qing, but Descartin had decided to go with his gut feeling. Frank might not be as experienced as the others, but Gerhard would probably push his mech too hard, too fast, while Kety would be outmatched in his _Gallowglas_, no matter how good he was. Qing's _Summoner_ was still showing signs of damage from the previous two battles, and was in an even worse shape than Frank's mech. No, Frank was his best choice.

Des knew that Deserk and Yoshino could hold their own against almost anyone from the clans, while Jean was a Bloodnamed warrior, which placed her among the elite of the elite. The odds were still slightly stacked against them, but with some strategic pairing off, he could get a win.

What did the ancient sage Sun-Tzu say? Match the best horse against a moderate one, and the moderate one against a lesser, and so on? Descartin hoped he had gotten the match-ups correctly.

"Bargained well and done." Colbert's answer came over the headphones in his neurohelmet. Almost immediately, Des could see the five clan mechs advancing forward with the massive _Turkina _leading them, its low slung body gliding past the terrain. They were gradually splitting up, obviously bent on zellbrigen.

_Very well, I guess we will just have to oblige them._ Des gave out his own orders. "Jean, take the _Hellbringer_! Deserk, get the _Cougar_. Yoshino, you have the _Viper_. Frank, engage the _Black Lanner_ at long range, and _keep it there for as long as possible_! I want you to hang on long enough for us to finish our own duels. I will not bullshit you. That is a Bloodnamed warrior you are fighting, and that effectively places him within the top five percent of warriors in the whole bleeding galaxy. You will lose, but hold it long enough for us to finish our own duels! I will tell you when it is time to disengage."

"Roger that." Frank did not entirely convinced, however. "No guarantees, but I'll try. You guys had better step it up!"

With that, the five mechs of the Raiders went into action. As he moved his _Nova Cat_, Des noticed water droplets on his front HUD.

It was beginning to rain.

Deserk grimaced as his _Black Hawk_ landed awkwardly after a jump. The _Cougar_ had fired its autocannon at the apex of his jump, and it had been by pure luck that he managed to maintain his balance as the _Black Hawk_ landed. The accompanying large laser beam had missed the legs of his mech by inches, zinging off into the clouds above.

The sky was pouring buckets of water on the combatants.

He took a moment to swing his twin PPCs in line with the Falcon mech. The water on his HUD was degrading his visibility, but sure of his targeting, he thumbed his triggers, sending two lightning bolts flashing out of the long barrels on the _Black Hawk_'s arms.

The _Cougar _seemed to have anticipated his shot, and managed to twist away in time to avoid one of the particle bolts. Pivoting on one leg, it ran its entire torso past the other PPC bolt, which sent one long jagged line on the armor. Blooms of steam bellowed from the wound as water was flash-boiled by the initial attack and subsequent rain hit the hot armor.

The _Cougar_ finished its graceful turn and responded with a full spread of SRMs. The powerful warheads slammed all over his mech, crushing armor and giving Deserk a good shaking.

Keeping a steady hand on his control stick and stepping lightly on his foot pedals, Deserk kept the _Black Hawk_ upright and sent another dual PPC salvo at the _Cougar_.

This time, both streams of electrons hit, devouring armor on the legs of the clan mech. The pilot did not seem too distressed by the hit, and fired all his weapons at Deserk.

Deserk was already reacting, working the foot pedals as he leaned the _Black Hawk_ to the left and engaging his jump jets once he saw the many weapons ports of the _Cougar_ flash. The laser beam caught the _Hawk_ in its right arm, while some missiles nibbled away at its right leg. The autocannon burst passed just below the flames of the jets, while the other missiles sent huge clods of wet soil flying up into the air .

Zellbrigen was completely different from a normal general engagement. In a normal battle, warriors were often too busy trying to stay appraised of the tactical situation to try any fancy moves. In zellbrigen, where it was strictly a one-to-one fight, there was no overall battle situation to distract the pilot. Evasive moves and reaction times, as well as shot grouping ability, become paramount in such dueling battles.

Though it had been years since Deserk had been involved in a real mech duel, he had managed to keep up using the simulators on Outreach. The Wolf Dragoons, due to their clan past, had never forgot the skills that one-on-one dueling could impart. Skills that were coming into play now for Deserk.

As his mech flew into the air, Deserk triggered his pulse laser, sending a long line of laser darts stitching up the _Cougar_'s arm.

Unfazed, the _Cougar _continued to close the range, as it had the better short range weapons. It  was lighter than the _Black Hawk_, but actually outgunned the medium mech due to the use of endo-steel and ferro-fibrous armor in its construction, which the _Black Hawk_ lacked. The Falcon scientists had outdone themselves this time.

Deserk feathered his jets, trying to maximize his jump distance before directing the last of the jump charge to his right leg, spinning the _Black Hawk_ around in the air before it came down facing the _Cougar_. One leg nearly slipped on the wet soil, but Deserk managed to get it under control before he lost his entire footing.

_One last exchange_, Deserk told himself. The _Black Hawk _had lost all the armor on the arms, and was almost shorn of armor over the torso. He could not afford another laser or autocannon strike to these areas. He had to put down the _Cougar_ with the next exchange, or his mech would be going down as well.

Uttering a quick prayer to the Kerenskys, Deserk unleashed an alpha strike at the _Cougar_. His heat levels shot up immediately, the total heat output from the combined weapons fire and the jump earlier too much for even the double strength freezers of the mech to dissipate. He could not see a thing on his screens as the steam issuing from his  raging heat sinks overwhelmed the sensors, both visible and infrared. It was so fast that he could not even see whether his weapons had hit the target. Moving the mech on sheer instinct, he waited for the internal heat to subside to a more reasonable levels, and more importantly, for the screens to clear before considering his next move.

He need not have bothered. A female voice came over his headset. It sounded dejected.

"This is Mechwarrior Veryn. I request hegira."

Deserk did not hesitate. "Hegira granted. You have fought honorably and well."

"Have I? I have lost to a filthy freebirth, a lucre warrior, and likely my chance at a Bloodname as well. How could it be honorable?"

Deserk smiled behind his neurohelmet. "In fact, I am abtakha to the Wolf Dragoons. I was once Nova Cat. I gained my victory with a mech fifteen tons heavier. There is no shame. You have done your best, and sometimes that is all a warrior can hope for. You have your future ahead of you. A Bloodname is not the end all and be all in this world. Do not dwell too long on this defeat. Take it as free advice from a near solahma!" He barked out a laugh.

Deserk knew that he should not have given the enemy warrior any encouragement, but he remembered when he had been on the losing end in the past. It was simply advice to keep your head up, and concentrate on the next day. Clan warriors had a bad habit of sinking into a deep funk whenever they lost. As much as that would have benefited the mercs as a whole, Deserk as a matter of principle liked to face his enemies straight on, with everybody at top form. It was an inborn sense of honor, of chivalry that he had never lost, even in the Inner Sphere.

"Thank you. Your words contain wisdom, and perhaps I shall ponder them later. Do not forget that we will still crush you in the end." The natural Falcon arrogance was seeping through again.

"I will not forget." He grinned again, as he saw through the gradually thinning mist a _Cougar_ limping away with one torso shot off and one leg with almost all its myomer missing. Maybe he should start a training school of his own when they returned to Outreach…

Star Commander Jean Posavatz cursed Descartin Winters for the umpteenth time in her cockpit. That was just about the only place she could do that without one of the Seeker's retinue snitching on her. Her _Stormcrow_ staggered in the rain as a PPC blast removed most of the armor on her right arm.

A year ago, she had been serving contentedly on Roche, guarding the Temple of the Nine Muses with Gamma Galaxy. Then one Star Captain had appeared out of nowhere and challenged her to a Trial of Possession for herself and her mech.

She had thought she was good, maybe even among the best twenty mechwarriors in the clan, but the level of skill that Descartin Winters exhibited was extraordinary. She had been blown out of her mech in just under thirty seconds. Bloodnamed warriors are not supposed to lose fights in less than a minute, even against another Bloodnamed warrior. She had felt humiliated, even after Khan Ariel Suvorov had personally approved the Trial and congratulated her on her plum new Seeker assignment.

Plum? Hah! Mixing with Inner Sphere money warriors was hardly an honorable assignment. Maybe the mission itself would bear great dividends for the clan, but did it _really_ require them to ally with these filthy freebirths?

She threw the _Stormcrow_ into a turn, closing on the enemy _Hellbringer_ all the time in a tightening spiral. Lowering her mech's shoulders at times and feinting with various false head actions had the Falcon pilot confused as to her true intentions. It also threw off the enemy's aim at times.

It was all very simple for her, actually. Her _Stormcrow_ packed a class 20 ultra autocannon backed by an array of six medium lasers. All she had to do was to survive getting in close. Then the duel would be over.

The Falcon pilot was not stupid either, and was trying to back away from the _Stormcrow_'s lethal autocannon. Unfortunately for the Falcon pilot, the _Stormcrow_ was almost one hundred percent faster than the _Hellbringer_ when one is running and the other just walking.

It was another ten seconds before Jean got within three hundred meters of the Falcon omnimech. Meanwhile, she had endured almost another full salvo of weapons fire from the _Hellbringer_, which was throwing off great gouts of steam as it worked to get rid of the excess heat. The sluggish movement of the mech told Jean that it was close to shutdown.

She lazily drifted the targeting reticule over the _Hellbringer_, and loosed everything she had at the enemy mech.

The results were impressive, to say the least. The thin armor of the Hellbringer simply collapsed under the storm of metal Jean spat out, while the three lasers that hit completed the job.

In the falling rain, Jean saw the enemy pilot eject as the _Hellbringer_ exploded when its engine went critical. She pitied the poor warrior. It was never a good idea to eject in such wet conditions. The Falcon was lucky there was not a single pathogen on the entire planet. As good as clan medical technology was, they had yet to cure the common cold.

One down, plenty more to go. Jean found herself wishing that she had taken one more swig of necrosia in the morning as she marched her mech to the next nearest duel.

The _Huntsman _moved swiftly to one side as a flight of missiles dug into the ground it had just exited. It replied with two pulse laser bursts, the darts tracking through the air, one stream making its way past the pouring rain to hit the rapidly evading _Viper_ on its left leg.

Yoshino Ihara had originally been destined for a life of service in the Draconis Combine Mustered Soldiery, but the Nova Cats had come a-calling on Avon while he was on leave from the Sun Zhang Mechwarrior Academy before his assignment to the Dieron Regulars.

He took his family's hereditary _Atlas_ out to oppose the invading forces, and had managed to destroy two enemy mechs, a light _Kit Fox_ and a medium _Stormcrow_ before falling to Descartin in his _Timber Wolf_.

When Yoshino woke up in a hospital two days later, he found the clanner patiently waiting beside his bed. Des made him a bondsman on the spot. Yoshino remembered laughing right into Descartin's face.

He had not cared what they thought of him at the time though. Disgraced, he had tried to commit _seppuku_, but Descartin and Deserk somehow found out about it, and they stopped him just as he was to plunge the blade into his own belly. That was followed by a messy brawl, and in the end Descartin managed to convince him to live on, and suggested that there might be other roads of honor to take.

Fifteen years on, Yoshino had gained an appreciation for clan ways, but he would always remain an outsider. After their 'stay' with the Ghost Bears, he had pledged his fealty to Descartin, though the clanner had laughed out loud when told of this. In the end, he had accepted just to prevent Yoshino from considering himself _ronin_, a warrior without a lord.

Yoshino had followed Descartin on his journeys through the clans since then, always ready to back up the other warrior. He realized he had slid into the role of Toto to Descartin's Lone Ranger, but never mentioned it because the clanner would not have recognized the cultural reference anyway.

Des had offered him several opportunities to return to the Inner Sphere, but Yoshino had refused every time. While he had hailed from a mechwarrior family, his parents had been killed in battle when he was about to graduate. He sworn revenge against the pirates who had done the foul deed, or more specifically, Vance Rezak. That was one reason for his decision to stay alive instead of slitting his own belly.

The family estates he owned as a minor noble were untouched by the new governors under Clan Nova Cat, and were presumably still his, as long as he was still alive. The combined actions the Star League carried out against the Smoke Jaguars and the migration of the Nova Cats to the Inner Sphere had put Avon back into Draconis Combine space. The money from the estates were perhaps the only reason he had for going back, which in turn was outweighed easily by his obligations to his chosen lord.

As he crouched the _Huntsman_ down to present a smaller targeting profile for the enemy mech, he knew that he had learnt more about mech combat and tactics with the clans than if he had stayed with the DCMS. At one point, when they were with the Cloud Cobras, Des was even a Star Colonel, and he was a Star Captain! Lofty rank for someone from the Inner Sphere! The Cobras had put them in charge of an OPFOR unit to hone the skills of the other Adder warriors against Inner Sphere tactics. Strangely, it was not long before they were 'traded' to the Coyotes in a mock Trial for some reason Des never bothered to tell him. Not that it mattered anyway.

One day he would seek his revenge on Vance Rezak, but at the moment, he figured he could do humanity a service by aiding Des Winters. There was a sense of destiny swirling around the man that Yoshino could perceive. The only other person he had met with such an aura was Frank Meronac, and Yoshino had yet to puzzle out his true purpose.

As the _Huntsman_ was rocked by missile which had managed to get through the anti-missile defense system of the mech, two laser blasts sizzled past above his cockpit. If Yoshino had not crouched the mech when he did, the shots would have skewered the cockpit and there would not have been enough of him left to fill a test tube.

He purposely fired his medium laser to the right of the _Viper_, bringing up the enemy mech short as it veered to that side, then followed up with another large pulse laser burst that tracked unsuccessfully between the _Viper's_ legs as the Falcon pilot feathered his jets just enough to avoid the shot. Yoshino continued on his march to his own right, maintaining his own distance from the clan pilot.

The two elite warriors had been dancing around each other for more than four long minutes now, stabbing and feinting at medium and long range with their weapons. The _Viper_ pilot was a marginally better shot than Yoshino, but the armor of the _Huntsman_ was quite a bit thicker than the _Viper_. The _Viper_ also had a much, much, better movement rate.

Weapons wise Yoshino had the advantage, his configured twin large pulse lasers giving him excellent hit ratios, while two Streak SRM-6 packs promised great pain for anyone who closed in. A medium laser was tacked onto the left torso as an afterthought, while the AMS provided point blank defense against missile attack. From what he had gleaned from his readings, and the blurred outlines of the Viper, the enemy mech mounted a LRM-10 rack and an extended range large laser, ideal weapons for fighting at range. It was an even match in battlefield terms.

The rain was wrecking havoc with their visible sensors, while the Model Ones Mark Ones, or more simply their eyes, were next to useless in such conditions. Infrared mode works best in such circumstances, but the downpour was affecting the missile flight trajectories. Yoshino even had some of his streak SRMs missing the target when there was once an opportunity to exchange close range fire.

The Falcon pilot did not seem to have such difficulties, slowly shaving armor off the _Huntsman_ with his laser and missiles. That was often negated by Yoshino's use of his large pulse lasers, arguably the best weapon for dealing with fast moving mechs at range.

Yoshino triggered his jets, angling for a position on a small hill nearby, where he could employ his pulse lasers more effectively. The _Viper _responded by jumping further away, where his pulse lasers could not hit. Yoshino, having anticipated such a move, changed his path in mid jump to land within range of his weapons, only to meet another hail of missiles from the clanner.

The AMS clawed away five of the missiles as the gatling gun used up the last of its ammo. The remaining missiles chewed into his left torso, breaching the armor there. A large laser blast melted the last of his center torso armor, and went to work on some of the internal structure. Thankfully for Yoshino, there was no component damage.

Yoshino had fired his own pulse lasers at the _Viper_ as he landed, and both shots hit. There was a sudden explosion as one ruby burst finally penetrated the _Viper's_ left torso and set off the LRM ammo in that location. The _Viper_ staggered as it lost not only the entire side torso, but also the left arm as well. In a remarkable show of skill and determination, the Falcon not only maintained his consciousness when others would have collapsed from the neural feedback, but also kept the mech on its feet.

The mech remained where it was, the pilot trying to shake off the shock from the ammo explosion. Yoshino found himself wincing in sympathy. He had been on the receiving end of an ammo explosion before.

The battle was over. Yoshino opened a channel to the Falcon pilot.

"Do you wish hegira?"

A breathless voice, tinged with obvious pain, replied, "Aff. Hegira it shall be."

Frank Meronac knew when he was outclassed. And this was definitely it.

After three minutes of action, he had only managed to score three hits on the _Black Lanner_, while the clanner had destroyed his left arm and all the armor on his legs. The _Night Gyr_ was now hobbling around with its leg actuators on the right leg all shot up, and even the jump jets were out of commission.

He had no illusions about his ability. While he had scored seven kills so far in the campaign, all came through plain luck and superior technology. They had also mostly occurred at short range, where even the greenest warrior could hit his targets and score kills.

This Falcon was smarter than most, and he seemed to know he was facing a weak opponent. He hung at the limits of his PPC's range, moving constantly to throw off Frank's aim, and lashing out with his PPC to send armor on the _Night Gyr_ into ruin. Frank had tried jumping constantly away from the clanner to reduce the number of hits he was suffering, but it had proven to be useless. The enemy pilot was a damn good shot.

Actually, Frank wasn't so bad himself. He would never have graduated from the Dragoon's Outreach Mercenary Training Command Basic Mech Instruction Course otherwise. He had wanted to go for advanced instruction which included dueling and tactical training, but his funds had run out by then. He had tried working at the University of Outreach Hospital to raise more cash, but the pay was mediocre and would not do anything to improve his combat skills. On the advice of his instructors, he took the job with the Raiders.

His instructors had recognized his raw ability, but he was told that experience, the one thing that separated rookies from the veterans, could only be gained on the field of battle.

And he knew that experience, more than anything else, was the difference between the _Black Lanner_ pilot and him. He had only been a mechwarrior for less than a year!

As he dragged the _Night Gyr_ further away from the enemy mech, Frank fired off a large laser blast, more to keep the clanner away than to score a hit. The _Black Lanner_ did not care, however, and continued to snipe at him with the PPC. It had not even utilized the LRM-20 rack yet!

The electron beam plunged into the left torso, melting internal structure. Two of the large lasers mounted there slumped in their mounts, rendered useless by the negatively charged leptons.

For ten more seconds, Frank tried to evade the deadly accurate shooting of the clanner. He had the distinct feeling the clanner was toying with him, and wanted the _Night Gyr_ in repairable condition.

All of a sudden, it launched its LRMs in one volley, the missiles angling for his mech in the heavy rain. Frank tried to move out of the way, but his damaged actuators had made him about as mobile as a rock.

The missiles went in all over the mech, destroying engine shielding on the left torso and claiming several heat sinks on the right. More importantly, they finally snapped the 'bone' holding up the right leg.

As the _Night Gyr_ collapsed to the ground, Frank heard the most welcome words he had ever heard in his short mechwarrrior career.

"Frank, this is Descartin! Punch out!"

Frank did not need the instructions to be repeated. Putting his hands to the side of his couch, where the ejection ring was located, he pulled hard. The top of the cockpit burst open, and he was flung out into the air while the _Night Gyr_ was still falling to the ground.

He was immediately assailed by the rain drops falling pell mell from the sky, a battering force as the couch struggled to gain altitude aginst the rain. He did not wait to reach the apex of the flight path, and quickly pulled out his parachute. The chute opened up as the couch started descending, and he hit the wet, soft ground moments later.

As he pulled himself free from the parachute, he saw the _Black Lanner_ heading towards the other mechs.

Des did not take long to finish his fight. As Jean Posavatz could attest, it was impossible to beat the elite warrior in a purely one on one battle.

The moment the _Turkina_ came into range, Des fired his PPCs and large pulse laser into its left leg while he charged forward. The clanner replied with his twin gauss rifles and a full spread of long range missiles, leaving the _Nova Cat_ with less than half of its armor left.

Des was not worried about his lack of protection. In his one attack, he had already destroyed all the armor on the _Turkina_'s left leg. He was determined that the next exchange of weapons fire would put the _Turkina_ down for good.

To Star Colonel Colbert Icaza's credit, he knew it too, and he lifted off on his jump jets. Using his jets to turn the mech quickly, he tried to shield his wounded leg from Des' deadly marksmanship.

It was to no avail. Just before the leg was completely shielded by the undamaged right leg, Des triggered another salvo of PPC and laser fire at the exposed leg.

This time, the _Turkina_'s leg was broken cleanly through the upper thigh, and Colbert, unable to balance his jets properly to compensate for the loss of so much structure, crashed to the ground.

As the _Turkina_ struggled to lever itself off the ground with one massive arm, Des marched the _Nova Cat_ up beside it, and without a word kicked out at the supporting arm.

The Falcon mech crashed back to the ground. Des coldly aimed his weapons over the arm he had kicked, and burned it off completely. The _Turkina_ was now helpless.

Des did not even bother to contact Icaza. No communication was required for the man to know he had lost utterly, within the short space of twenty seconds.

Checking his status screens, Des moved his mech to a nearby rise in the ground, where he could observe Frank's duel.

As the other warriors reported in with their own successes, Des held off from telling Frank to bail out. He wanted the other warrior to win on his own, even though it was highly unlikely. Once the _Night Gyr_ lost its leg, however, Des got Frank to eject. With four warriors against the single Falcon left, the result was a foregone conclusion.

"Star Commander Turic Helmer, please surrender." He informed the Falcon. "Your compatriots have been defeated, and you are all that is left, against four of us. Victory is impossible. I shall grant you hegira."

The _Black Lanner_ stood impassively for several long moments, before the reply came.

"Aff. Your offer is accepted. We have lost, and there is no need to waste a mech in fruitless combat. It is far better to have my machine repaired, and return to fight you on more even footing the next time."

The _Black Lanner_ begun to retreat, while three of the Falcon omnimechs moved forward to drag their Star Colonel's helpless _Turkina_ back to their camp. Des allowed them to go. There would be more opportunity for salvage later. Besides, the Raiders were going to have trouble just repairing what they presently had!

"Sorry, Frank. It's gonna take quite a while to construct a new leg and arm for the _Night Gyr_. We are thinking of cannibalizing one of the _Marauder_'s legs. That will require quite a lot of work, as we need to convert the chicken leg to a normal manwalker type." Denilson talked while he was busy running a diagnostic on that very same _Marauder_ leg.

"No problem. Any other mech I could drive in the meantime?" Frank was anxious about having a ride. Any mech would do, as it was far better than to stay exposed on the ground in case of another battle.

"Well, there's the _Mad Cat_, but it's also missing a leg. It's your choice. You want the _Marauder_ leg for the _Mad Cat_ or the _Night Gyr_?"

"Put it on the _Night Gyr_. I'm used to that mech now. I can't afford the time to get used to another mech."

"Wilco, boss. In the meantime, there's the _Jagermech _that needs only a new head. It should be operational by tomorrow. You can take it for the time being." Denilson turned his full attention back to his work, while Frank went to look for Lorik to see if the scientist had found anything behind the Ragged Ones' attack.

True to their word, the Falcons had left the final key machine to the Raiders. The Raiders had also searched the caves the Ragged Ones had hid in, and found a store of special autocannon ammunition, as well as more supplies for their dropship and mechs.

As he entered the cargo bay Lorik had appropriated as 'his research lab', he was struck by the sight of the four key machines hooked up together, with countless wires running between them and a computer Lorik was working at.

The elemental raised his head as Frank entered.

"Ah, Frank! When are we going to lift?"

"It'll be a while yet. I suggested, and everybody agrees, that we had better get everything squared away before we go to our next location. I want to go in the next time with our mechs at top condition, not half dead like today." Frank sighed. "We nearly got wiped out there just now."

"Well, that's good news for me, because I've just figured out how the machines work, and what happened to the Ragged Ones! "

Frank was excited by the news. "Hold on a sec." He pulled out his communicator, and quickly informed the others.

Within three minutes, the core leadership of the Raiders were all gathered in the cargo bay, seated on chairs facing Lorik, who was the only one standing. Besdie him was a projector screen. Frank got the distinct feeling he was back at the NAIS attending a lecture.

"Some preliminaries first." Lorik started. "What you are going to hear may contradict every scientific principle you have learnt in the past. I know it might be difficult to accept, but this is something beyond perhaps our wildest dreams." At that, he laughed as if at some hidden joke. "Just accept what I will tell you, quiaff?"

Privately, everybody wondered if the elemental had lost it.

Before anyone could reply, Lorik plunged on. "Everybody knows there are four fundamental forces in nature. Gravity, electromagnetic, weak and strong forces. For centuries, we have tried to put together a Grand Unified Theory that could properly explain every single particle and phenomenon we observe. Even the discovery of the Kearny-Fuchida jump drive did not change matters much, as it did not refute the existence of the four forces."

"That has now changed. From the reports of the Star League scientists, they had recovered several artifacts that operated on a paradigm different from anything we ever had. It took long years of research before they finally discovered the existence of psi, the fifth fundamental force."

Frank was nearly floored by that statement, while the others were looking around quizzedly. Forsen, as a merchant and a jumpship operator, knew more than most, and he was frowning as well.

"They actually had to grab psychically active individuals off the Star League to test their theories, which was confirmed beyond a doubt by their experiments. I will not go into details now, but suffice to say, the artifacts responded to non-physical stimuli, and directly by the thoughts of the test subjects."

"Psi exists all around us, yet no one has thus been known to be able to control it fully. Living matter somehow contain, or gather more psi than inanimate objects. I cannot figure out which is it yet, nor why this is so. While living matter has more psi, sentient living matter has even more."

"Psi permeates all of space and time as well, linked in a manner which we are unable to uncover. However, reports suggest that individuals sensitive to psi may be able to perceive events in the future. I suspect this is the basis for the visions that appears to the Nova Cats, the Coyotes, and the Goliath Scorpions." Descartin snorted at this, while Deserk spoke up.

"Lorik, there has been some parapsychology experiments conducted at the University of Outreach on the Nova Cats bondsmen taken by the Dragoons. The scientists didn't tell us much, but I had been able to get hold of a report that had conclusions very similar to yours. I don't know why they stopped. The reason they gave us was because the results and the methods were unscientific."

Frank chipped in with his own opinion. "I agree with Deserk on some points. I went through some of the same articles on that subject when I was in the hospital, and scuttlebutt was that the project was abandoned when some big shot applied pressure on the researchers, not because they gave up on their own." He turned to Deserk and smiled. "The hospital and university staff are well known for being gossip-mongers."

Lorik cleared his throat loudly. "Ahem. Let us get back on topic. Psi was suspected to be an integral part of the alien civilization. Yes?" Frank raised a hand.

"Fact or conjecture?" He asked. He was slipping back into his 'student' mode.

"Uhm, conjecture, unfortunately. There is no certain proof, you see, only some artifacts and items that we have uncovered. Anyway, once they realized that there was an alien base somewhere on the planet, they started trying everything they knew to get in. Various electromagnetic frequencies, heavy weapons, naval bombardment, and even a nuke or two." Everybody stiffened at the mention of nuclear weapons.

"It wasn't long before they finally translated enough of the written material left behind that they were able to discover the key. It was written that the base was left behind 'only for the ones that are living'. That's the closest translation they got. Since there was a strong correlation between sentient life and psi, I think the scientists picked up on that and decided to give that angle a try."

"These machines are used to extract psi energy from people, and somehow translate and magnify it into psi energy that could be interpreted by the alien base. I still haven't figured out how the process works exactly, but rest assured that it does not harm the subject providing the psi. It seems that the psi energies of people can transmitted such that they can somehow convey the person's state of mind and former experiences. This is probably the best test for a sentient, living being. A machine, for example, doesn't have the amount of psi needed, nor the 'memories' that could activate the transmission process."

"Then what happened to the Ragged Ones?" Yoshino asked.

"Uncontrolled psi energy is quite dangerous. As I have told you before, it could bring visions from the future and the past. It could also conceivably drive people mad. The same sentience that enables us to have more psi also makes us more vulnerable to it. The Ragged Ones were victims of negative psi energy."

Some of the Raiders could be seen edging away from the key machines as they heard this.

Lorik did not seem to notice, as he said, "From their engineer's notes, his last remark was that he was simply activating the device. He found out where the input gear of the machine was, and 'strapped' himself in, as it were. After that, presumbly they went crazy. Here is what I have pieced together, from the reports done on emotion states and psi, and the readings I have obtained from the key machine that the Ragged Ones had."

Turning to the to his computer, he punched some keys. A graph appeared on the screen.

"Here is the psi readings of someone in emotional distress. The report from which this was taken from indicated that the subject was in mortal fear at the time."

He punched another key. The previous graph shrank to half the screen, while another graph appeared below it.

"The graph below is the last psi input the machine had. The similarities are striking, as you all can observe. However, I contend that this was _not_ the mindset of the engineer of the Ragged Ones at the time. It was probably one last remnant of the Star League scientist that used this machine last."

"Huh? Then why didn't it take the psi of the engineer and amplify it?"

"He didn't calibrate it properly, simple as that. In the end, the machine modified the psi energy to resemble the previous input, while the engineer supplied the psi energy which was adjusted to the previous input by the machine. The psi output drove the unit mad."

"By the Founder! Is it a weapon then?" Des asked.

"Neg. The previous effect was quite simply, a fluke. While there was a small chance that this would occur, the chances were actually quite small. The psi energy could have been modified in any number of ways by the machine. There could be any of a thousand possible effects taking hold in such a case. I might add that psi is still hardly understood, and the people who know it best are all dead. The Ragged Ones were unlucky to have been afflicted with paranoia."

"Why do you figure that?"

"They hid in caves, didn't they? The Star League scientists who used this machine last was also probably holed up in some underground base. The prevailing emotion here, is fear of an enemy, and a strong feeling to hide. That same fear was transmitted to the Ragged Ones, a fear so strong that they decided to hide in the caves, and incidentally, fight you whne they felt they had no other choice."

"What fear was it?" Someone asked.

"Fear of the _Spidercrabs_." Frank answered. "For the Ragged Ones, it was fear of the Falcons, or maybe anyone they saw as a potential threat. Remember, the Falcons use the _Fenris _in their forces as well. That could be why they attacked Bryan."

"Then how are we going to use these machines without possibly turning the rest of us into maniacs, or worse?"

Lorik fielded that one. "Psi operates on many levels. The one they use to open the base door is probably one that should have minimal effect on sentient beings, just enough for the alien base to pick up, and hopefully, open the doors."

"So how long before we can get into the base?" Forsen asked.

"I'll be honest with you. I've found out how the machines transmit their signals, but not how the signals are arranged. Is it a simple process where six machines are hooked up, and one transmits after the other? Or do they all transmit at once? You get my meaning?"

Everybody nodded.

Lorik continued, "I think it won't be long before we find out how the sequence works. In the meantime, we will have to uncover the location of the base soon."

Frank's communicator suddenly beeped. As he lifted it up to his ear, the others waited anxiously to see what was the latest news.

They saw Frank speak back to the communicator with 'yes', 'no', and 'do what you gotta do'. They also saw Frank's mouth split into a wide smile. Frank turned to the assembled personnel as the communication ended. It was clear that he had difficulty keeping a poker face, while the people in the room were dying to know what he had learnt.

"People, we have some bad news, some good news, and some very, very good news. Bad news is, Captain Karen Winslet was killed in action by the Falcons. We, as in the mercs of Outreach and Galatea, have lost another company of mechs, two of vehicles, and three of infantry today. Good news is, the Warriors won, and are now led by someone called Robert Feehan. Their key machine is also now with the Arch Lancers."

He grinned suddenly. "Best of all, the Arch Lancers have found the alien base!"

_The machine intelligence at the bottom of the ocean stirred again. The events of the past few days had been very promising. The primitive machines the flesh beings had used to gain entry into its target had fallen into the hands of two factions, one of which had landed near the gates._

_It wondered if the flesh beings would be able to figure out the combination for using the machines, that living, breathing, thinking beings are required to open the gates. It had been a precaution on the part of the long dead civilization that the owners of the machine intelligence would not be able to plunder the riches in the base._

_It deduced that the day where it would finally accomplish its goal was drawing ever closer. It begun to move more of its units nearer the location. It would throw more units than the flesh beings had in its very first assault. Losses are acceptable, as long as it accomplished its objective._

_Once the gates are opened, the machine intelligence would unleash hell._


	23. The Door

_Copernicus Caldera,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

_12th March 3068_

_Battle's Bane_ had landed at the site Frank and Descartin had pointed out as one of two possible locations for the hidden base. The Arch Lancer's departure from Drop Zone Phi in the morning had been a bittersweet one, as they knew in all likelihood that some of their friends in the Warriors would be dead before noon.

That prediction was all too accurate. Karen Winslet had died in her _Cyclops_ when its engine went critical after being pierced by a concentrated volley of autocannon and PPC fire. The Warriors had lost four more mechwarriors, but they had repulsed the Falcons.

The Warriors were now led by a Robert Feehan, a new recruit they had picked up on Outreach. The name sounded familiar to Ian, but that was just about the last thing on his mind as he grieved over Karen's death in his office. Leaning against a wall with one hand while he read the after action report, he could barely process the information on it.

The other Lancers had been deployed to look for traces of the alien base, equipped with topographic scanners and Geiger counters to detect trace radiation. The place had been nicknamed Copernicus Caldera by a dropship engineer, and the name stuck for convenience's sake. All this left him in his office, supposedly to coordinate his units. He was not doing that though.

_What do I feel for her?_ This question resounded in his mind over and over again as he replayed the times they had together. He knew that she loved him, but was it just childish adoration, or the love of a mature woman? He had never treated her like a lover until the night before, and even then it was more out of sympathy. In the past, he had simply regarded her as a close friend, and an important ally. There had been numerous opportunities for him to show reciprocate, but he had never felt the urge to.

And now, it was too late. He could feel the gaping hole in his heart, and it was even worse than when Sachin had died. Logically, he knew it was no fault of his that she died, that she knew the risks of combat. But he could not help feeling sorry for never returning her love. It was sadness tinged with regret.

He punched the wall in front of him, his fists hitting with such force that a picture hung on the same wall was shook loose from its place and clattered to the floor. He wanted, no, needed the release.

_Love cannot be made to order._ Clichéd, certainly, but no less true even in the 31st century. Karen had offered her love without reservation, without really expecting anything from Ian in return. Ian, on the other hand, had never been obligated to love her back in return.

_Correction._ He did love her, but not in the romantic sense. It was the type of love between friends, nothing more, and nothing less. That did not make it meaningless, however.

As he straightened up, he straightened out his thoughts as well. He need not feel ashamed that he did not take Karen to be his lover, but his sadness was genuine and proper, for she had been his close friend. She would have wanted him to avenge her, and to make the best out of the rest of his life.

That was her strong hint the previous night, when she had hinted at his true identity. As they shared their bodies, she had told him her dreams, her hopes for the future. She had also expressed her wishes concerning him, that he would stop wasting time running his merc unit and return to his homeland. She had said he was too good to spend his whole life fighting for every House and minor faction that needed a merc.

_Very well, Karen. If that is your last wish, I will try my best to accomplish it._ A look of determination appeared in his eyes as he set out his goals for the future. _Maybe it's time to claim my destiny._

As Ian walked out of the _Fortress_ dropship, he could feel a certain apprehension in the air, as though whole armies were about to descend upon the small camp. Almost everyone was hard at work combing the area for clues, the mechwarriors on over watch in their huge mounts, the tankers zipping through the perimeter in their light, nimble tanks, and the infantry using their eyes and handheld sensors to look for anomalies.

Nobody had any idea what the entrance might look like, but from previous accounts of discovery of lostech caches in hidden bases, a cave or a flat wall was always involved.

Ian was more skeptical, however. They were looking at this from a human perspective. Who knows what the aliens might have thought? And they might even be advanced enough to put up holographic screens or something similar that the mercs were unable to think of, and thus detect.

The signs were encouraging, however. The background radiation was a bit higher than usual, which lends credence to the idea that nuclear weapons had been used in the area before, probably as a can opener.

The single huge peak in the middle of the caldera had its summit at about 5000 meters above sea level, while its base and the caldera floor was two thousand meters below sea level. Off to the north was the sea, about three clicks away from the edge of the caldera, which was about fifty kilometers across in diameter. The mountain in the middle, which they had dubbed Galileo's Tower, was about ten kilometers across.

Ian had never seen such a weird geographic arrangement, and this was one further sign that they were looking in the right place. Thinking about it just gave him the shivers. The aliens actually had the ability to construct entire landscapes, and even terraform a planet such that it was still a paradise after the terraforming was long done.

This was in direct contrast to humanity's efforts to terraform Venus, and countless other worlds in the Inner Sphere, which all collapsed when the technology to maintain the terraformed climate failed, which resulted in the planets reverting back to their pre-terraformed condition.

They had two days to find the base before the next challenge arrived. Rho Galaxy had agreed to allow them that much time to repair their mechs, which the techs were doing. The mechs going on the search were either not heavily damaged, or placed later in the queue. Ian had ordered Pascal to concentrate efforts on one or two mechs at a time, which would allow the other mechs to participate in the search.

He would have liked to join a search party himself, but it was more important that he coordinate the overall effort. With the _Battle's Bane_ nestled in the shadow of Galileo's Tower, the search was widening out gradually as they expanded the radius.

Ian looked over the grassy plains of the caldera, marveling at the sheer beauty of the place. The air was tinged with the fragrant scent of wild flowers in bloom, raising the spirits of the mercs, while the tall walls of the caldera gave them a strong sense of security.

_It will not last long._ Ian thought to himself. Once the Falcons attack, the place would turn into just another battlefield, with the inerasable scars of war etched onto the land. The husks of dead mechs, the muddy ground churned up by the footsteps of the massive machines, the disposed shells of unexploded missiles and autocannon casings, would mark the land forever as mankind's, a testament to their urge for conflict.

Corporal Tom Huckley was a native of Andurien, a world rich in resources, but fought over so often by Houses Liao and Marik that its former beauty was a thing of the past. The present sight of the caldera reminded him so much of his homeworld's former glory that it threatened to bring tears to his eyes.

He had left his home when he was eighteen, the third son who had next to no prospects in the small town he had grown up in. He enlisted in a private militia for two years, before scraping up enough money to get to Outreach, the Mercenary's Star. It was not long before he managed to get hired by the Arch Lancers, an up-and-coming merc unit fast gaining a reputation in the hotbed of the Chaos March. He had fought in quite a few campaigns since then, but the present one, for all its brevity, was the most brutal yet.

Captain Sachin was dead, along with more than half the number of ground-pounders they had. By dint of his rank, Tom, who normally commanded a subsection of three men, was now in charge of a full section since there were many gaping holes in their TO&E.

He shook his head vigorously, and got back to his task of searching for the entrance to the hidden base. The higher ups had not told them much, only that the Star League had one more base somewhere in the mountains.

Even the infantrymen, as kept out of the loop as they were, knew that was a piece of crock. If the Star League really had a base here, they would have picked the base's fusion plant signature with their neutrino sensors.

Some eavesdropping and rumor-mongering had revealed to the troopers the incredible truth, that there were aliens on the planet once. Of course, those aliens were all dead, or Tom was sure they would have sent the meddling humans packing long ago already.

Similarly, it did not take them long to realize that the base they were looking for belonged to the aliens. If Star League devices could make them rich, then surely the alien artifacts within the base would make them wealthy beyond belief!

Best of all, Major Ian might even have enough money to outfit the infantry with battlearmor. In their battles with the Falcons, Tom had seen enough of the powerful elementals to appreciate the edge it might give them. Lieutenant Drenner, who had been promoted to the rank by a grateful Ian for their part in the previous battle, had even allowed some select troopers to try out the elemental suits. While they had all come out exhausted, Tom could see that they had all fallen in love with the idea of armored suits.

Tom was so engrossed in his thoughts while mechanically sweeping his handheld neutrino sensor from side to side, that he failed to notice an obstacle on the ground.

"What the heck?" He suddenly found the grass rushing up to meet his face, as he tripped over something on the ground. Flinging out his hands desperately to prevent his head from going splat, he knew he had succeeded when his forearms slammed into the ground just before his own face hit the arms, the double impact numbing his arms.

"Damn!" He yelled as he lifted his head. "What the fuck was that?"

Shaking off the pain, he pulled up his feet from whatever had tripped him, and stood up. He turned around to look for the offending obstacle, only to see a thin plastic wire on the ground.

_A plastic wire?_ Crouching down for a closer look, he could see that the plastic was heavily marked and scratched from years of exposure to the elements. He decided to follow the wire to see where it led. This could be important.

It was not long before the wire split into several more wires, each leading to a ruined device, which Tom was able to identify as a camera. He walked around the area for a while, noting the locations of each camera and what they might have been filming. It was not long before he managed to determine the direction they were pointing at.

They were pointing at a jagged piece of wall, with a single long vertical line running right down the middle from the top.

Ian was checking his the dispositions of his far flung unit when the call came in.

"Sir, this is Lieutenant Wick. One of my men has found something. Come check it out! The location is at 3547. I'm gathering my platoon at the area ASAP." There was a short pause. "I think we've found it sir."

There was no need for Wick to tell Ian what 'it' was. It was what they had been searching for the past few hours, what the Star League had spent centuries trying to open.

And quite possibly what killed the researchers on the planet as well.

Twenty minutes after a hellishly fast ride on a _Regulator_ hovertank, Ian found himself staring at the Door.

It was simply called the Door, the mercs surprisingly short of corny nicknames at the moment. Covering one side of Galileo's Tower, it hardly stood out in orbital scans and cursory visual tracking. On the ground though, at fifty meters away, it was plain obvious that there was an entrance of some sort in the side of the mountain.

The Door was about four hundred meters high, large enough for even their dropships to enter should they manage to open it. Its width was more debatable, but Ian guessed that it was probably very, very wide.

Several warriors and infantrymen with demolitions training were examining the site, trying to find a place to place their explosives. It took Ian several stern orders before they relented.

The Star League had tried everything from naval bombardment to nuclear assault to open up the place, and these attempts had all failed. What could the mercs do to surpass that? No, what was required were the six key machines, two with the Lancers and four with the Raiders.

A transmission had already been sent to the Raiders, who would be joining them in the caldera once their mechs had been fixed up. Estimates were about two days, more than ample time for the Lancers to get their own gear into top condition.

Quickly assessing the situation, Ian ordered the _Battle's Bane_ to land near the Door. He did not want his men cut off from their transport if anything went wrong, and it also allowed fire support for his mobile elements.

Despite its age, the _Fortress_ class dropship deserved its designation for being a solid fort on the ground. The Long Tom it carried further enhanced its combat ability, supplying artillery fire against unsuspecting enemies. Ian had held off using the Long Tom in his battles against the Falcons because he knew it would have been a gross bid violation and could have incurred the wrath of clan aerospace units. He did not want to sacrifice their ride home for a chance to damage some clan omnimechs!

All they can do now was to wait for the Raiders and hope that they had found out how to use the key machines.

_Dropship Nile, In Atmospheric Transit,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

_14th March 3068_

After two days of brainstorming, Frank and Lorik had come up with a variety of programs to activate the machines. There were preplanned sequences, with one machine transmitting after the next, two machines linked together transmitting simultaneously, and so on.

Despite all these, Frank and Lorik knew there was something they were missing, something they had not thought of. Something completely out of the box.

_No time to think too much of this now_, Frank thought as he sat in the cockpit of his patched up _Night Gyr_. The techs had managed to scrape up enough endo-steel from the carcasses of the other scrapped clan mechs to build a new leg for his mech. In the end, the _Marauder_ leg was not needed at all.

Most of the mechs were fixed up, including the reserve mechs. Their battles had made the scratch unit wealthy in Battlemechs, still the most secure form of currency in the Inner Sphere. Frank wondered how they are going to split the mech surplus when they returned to Outreach.

He pushed that thought out of the way. That was the least of his problems. Better to take care of the immediate ones.

Several other merc units were also heading towards the site of the base entrance. Two infantry companies, and three armor units. They had yet to be challenged by the Falcons, but at the rate the Falcons were ripping through the mercenaries, they would not be far behind.

One encouraging sign was an almost imperceptible slowdown of the Falcon attacks. While there were as many as eight challenges at the very start, it had dwindled down to an average of 6 challenges now, and many of them against the really small units, like two mech lances and the sort. Frank estimated that the Falcons must have already lost the equivalent of one cluster in material, and about one and a half trinaries in personnel.

The Jade Falcons seemed to be on the comeback, however. The previous day, reports were coming in of Inner Sphere mechs fighting on the side of the clanners, retrofitted with clan technology. While not as deadly as clan omnimechs, they still posed a significant threat. Frank did not doubt that with the new mechs, the Falcons would be able to recover their original mech strength, if not their full combat power, very soon.

For the mercs, there were about five regiments of them left. In detail, there were still two regiments of mechs, another two of vehicles, and one of infantry. They had lost almost all their aerospace assets, the surviving pilots all bondsmen to Clan Jade Falcon. Only about four fighters belonging to the Warriors, and another six attached to a tank company that had yet to be challenged remained. Both units were heading for the caldera.

That left the mercs in the caldera with a great deal of combat strength, almost approaching a full regiment, in fact. Frank was wondering if the Falcons would simply send a full cluster to wipe them out, which would be very convenient to them.

Ian had said over his last transmission that it was actually a good idea. He proposed setting up one huge trap, complete with mines, artillery, and hidden infantry, to lure the Falcons into. Frank had his doubts about the idea, but his first priority was not the destruction of the clanners, but rather gaining entry into the alien stronghold.

Over the past few days, the former Nova Cats were repeatedly complaining of nightmares in their sleep. The dreams were vivid, but often they could not remember anything about it when they woke up, just a general sense of dread. Only Deserk was able to describe what he saw, which was the same dream he had been having ever since they arrived in system.

Even Jean Posavatz was having weird visions, especially after every ingestion of necrosia. She seemed to be getting more and more addicted to the substance as the visions got clearer and clearer, something which had Descartin Winters very worried. He did not want one of his best mechwarriors to suddenly go off the edge or into a coma due to an overdose of the stuff.

The dreams and visions were not confined to the clanners. Some of the tech crew and the warriors were also reporting strange visions and portents. Frank himself had an episode so far, but his memories of the dream were too hazy.

Lorik was trying to calm the slowly panicking warriors and techs, through slow and deliberate explanations that convinced many that they were not going mad. Although the results seemed to bear out the general hypothesis of psi, Lorik did not want to pile any more pressure on the mercs than he already had.

Frank knew better. It was also a good sign, in a way. It showed that perhaps an important psi event is approaching, probably the activation of the key machines. That also indicated that they would have figured out the proper configuration, and that the alien base has been opened.

He could not forget, however, Deserk's dreams of black mechs storming all over the planet. Could the Door be a poisoned chalice, a doorway to hell?


	24. Open Sesame

_The Door, Copernicus Caldera,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery,_

_14th March 3068_

"What the heck are we waiting for?" Dravid Rajenan of the heavy tank company Death Dancers yelled. "Let's just bust into he base ASAP!"

Thirty minutes ago, the mercs proceeding towards the alien site had all landed almost simultaneously. Ian Dorlacen had quickly called for a war council, to discuss their next moves. All the merc leaders were now in attendance, while their troops formed a makeshift perimeter around the Door and the dropships.

The council was held under a large tent, with battered crates set up as makeshift tables. Datapads, computers, and laptops were scattered all over the crates.

"We simply don't know what might happen when we activate the machines." Frank repeated for the third time. "I want everybody to be sure of the risks involved. The Star League bases here were all wiped out when the Door was opened. We could suffer the same fate if we're not prepared." Deserk's dreams were weighing heavily on his mind as he said this.

"Come on. You must know the Falcons have info on all our movements. They'll be dropping on our heads like a ton of bricks soon if we don't find a way inside." Lieutenant Robert Feehan, new commander of the Warriors after Karen Winslet was killed in action, stood up to give his view. "The risks are worth it. Just get all our troops and the dropships ready, and I can assure you that short of a clan cluster, nothing can stop us from getting safely into the base."

As the other commanders discussed their deployment and tactics, Ian finally recalled where he had heard of Robert Feehan. The man was once a Colonel, commander of Wolverton Highlanders. After his regiment was bought out by the Blackstone Highlanders, he somehow got his unit embroiled in the Fed-Com civil war. His unit was torn apart by Snord's Irregulars and Archer's Avengers. Robert was shipped to Outreach, where he was jailed for a year for using questionable tactics, although his claim that he did not willingly participate in the planning was a strong mitigating factor.

Karen had signed him up as her second in command recently when he was released and looking for a job. Ian had met the man a few times, but those few times he had failed to connect the man's name with the unscrupulous merc mentioned in the merc newscasts.

Robert Feehan seemed decent enough, and his time in jail must have sobered him. In any case, Ian was glad to see that most of the mercs had put aside any animosity due to past conflicts and differences to work together. The sole exception was Hamirah Rasouf, who still bore Frank Meronac a serious grudge for past events on Bromhead.

The appearance of the Goliath Scorpion Descartin Winters was a bit of a shock to most of the merc commanders, but his easy smile and friendly demeanor quickly put them to ease. They were still a bit shocked at seeing a clanner who was not out to kill them, and this was reflected in their slight hesitation whenever Descartin spoke to one of them.

Ian shook himself from his thoughts, and glanced at the data screen in front of him. While he had been woolgathering, they had come up with a workable plan.

Frank Meronac and the huge clan scientist Lorik were demonstrating how they were going to activate the machines. Six volunteers would be hooked up to the machines' input helmets, which seemed a lot similar to the neurohelmets mechwarriors use. A central processor would coordinate the psi output from the machines.

Meanwhile, the mechs and vehicles of the mercs would stand guard around the Door in a crescent in two ranks. One facing outwards, one facing inwards in case of a force emerging from the base. The dropships would hold the center of the crescent with their firepower, while the infantry would stand around near where they guessed the edge of the Door to be, ready to rush in once the inner line had cleared the Door. The key machines would be placed outside, near the dropships, to be transported inside once the Doors and the immediate area within the base was cleared by their groundpounders, led by Drenner and his elemental abtakha warriors.

Nobody had any idea of what to expect from the base interior once the Door was opened, so all personnel were instructed to be at full readiness.

Kety of the Raiders was speaking. "If we are to maintain cohesion in battle, someone must be overall commander. That way, we won't be picked apart piecemeal when things fall apart."

Solemn nods were seen among the mercs as they all knew the value of unity, especially in such a situation.

"Therefore," Kety continued, "I nominate Frank as temp Colonel." Frank nearly choked on his drink as he heard this, sputtering liquid from his mouth.

Benny Greaves responded almost immediately. "How about Des Winters?"

Drenner spoke up next. "Major Ian ranks the highest among us all. He should be overall commander."

Name after name was thrown out by the mercs, before Ian banged the table once to indicate silence. Almost immediately, everyone quieted down.

"I'm honored to be suggested, but how about someone who has been a real Colonel before?" He looked at Robert Feehan, who had yet to respond, and whose name had not even been brought up.

Feehan stood up, and shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry, but I cannot do this. I caused the ruin of my unit years ago. I have no confidence to do this again. I'm scared that I'll just drag us all down to defeat. I would suggest Major Ian Dorlacen and Frank Meronac as your best choices. Major Ian has proved his worth in combat many times, and Frank Meronac is a quick thinker on his feet. Both are suitable choices."

Des also refused the job. "I am a clanner. Do you not think there might be a conflict of interest here? My apologies, but I cannot be commander. I will still be willing to work with whomever you select."

_My turn to speak,_ Ian thought. "It's better that I coordinate the frontlines, while Frank coordinates the whole thing. The fact is, I'm a better fighter, and my skills are better used on the field. Frank can keep us together, and he's been doing a good job of leading the Raiders so far. Another point in his favor is that he is a scientist, and probably better than us in dealing with any unexpected situation when inside the base. So how about it?"

Ian could see Frank's eyes nearly bulging out, the young commander hardly believing what he was hearing.

Personally, Ian did not want overall command. He felt his fighting ability was too useful to be left behind the lines. Frank Meronac, though not academy trained, had a quick mind that could make him a good commander.

"Since even Major Ian thinks Frank should be the commander, so shall it be." Drenner grinned, and gave Frank a quick salute, which the stupefied doctor sloppily returned.

All around the place, mercs yelled out their approval, with Hamirah Rasouf one obvious exception. She did not say anything though. Frank sighed, then nodded his head in reluctant acceptance. He looked up, and determination could be seen in his eyes as he gave his first orders.

"Ok, I'm still learning, but I'll do my best. I want all units to be at their standby points in twenty minutes. We might have very little time before the Falcons issue another challenge and come in with guns blazing. Lorik, get your volunteers hooked up, and get the code programs running ASAP." He clapped his hands. "Get to it people! Time's a wasting here!"

Almost immediately, the entire area quickly became a throng of running warriors and technicians as they prepared for the opening of the Door. Mechwarriors ran over final systems diagnostics with their techs, while the tanker inspected their vehicles one last time. Infantrymen checked their weapons for problems one last time, while dropship crewmen quickly manned their guns, ready to provide supporting fire.

The six volunteers from the tech crews strapped themselves into the key machines, trying to stay calm amidst all the hustle near the Door. Lorik ran last minute simulations of the codes, ensuring that the code sequences were all in order. Tina got ready to assist the medtechs in handling the wounded in case of battle. Harbingers were trained in the healing arts as well, a boon to more than one reckless Seeker in the past.

Forsen Mandela stayed on the bridge of the _Nile_, wringing his hands nervously in anticipation.

_Site Upsilon,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

"Faster, you stravag dogs! Before I take out my neural whip!" Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth roared at the techs to hurry loading up the _Overlord-C _dropship _Sword of Buhallin. Most of the mechs of Star Captain Daniela Mattlov's Supernova Trinary had been locked into their metal cribs within the massive transport, with only a few more to go.._

Just two hours ago, when the _White Aerie had arrived to take up station in orbit around the planet, Valten Folkner had reported to her of a massive mercenary gathering in a huge caldera. All six key machines were reported to be present there._

Lizabet knew what that meant, and immediately set out on the _Sword of Buhallin to gather up her best troops for the assault to capture the last hidden base on the planet. The mercenaries must had found the hidden base, and were planning to open it. Lizabet wanted to hit them just before they succeeded, and that was why she was anxious for the techs to complete the loading process._

One other trinary had been collected from the various battle sites around the planet, all from the elite 124th Striker Cluster. With her elite Galaxy Command Trinary added to the force, she knew she had sufficient strength to defeat the mercenaries.

Star Colonel Colbert Icaza had been humiliated during his purposeful failure in his battle with the mercenaries, and today he had been chosen, along with his command trinary, to accompany Galaxy Commander Danforth in her moment of glory. Lizabet had granted him this opportunity to erase the stain on his honour by defeating Descartin Winters. After all, she was the one who ordered him to lose in the first place, so as to let the mercenaries to get the last key machine.

Her plan had worked to perfection, but she feared that if she did not move fast enough, the chance to destroy the mercs and claim the hidden base would be lost.

All the mechs were being equipped with hover-drop jump packs, disposable jump boosters that enabled mechs to disembark from their dropship while it was still several hundred meters above the ground. The jump packs would enable the mechs to land safely.

The hoverdrop technique was extremely risky, but was also one of the most effective manoeuvres for fast offensives. And Lizabet was renowned for using unorthodox, but highly effective tactics. This would enable her troops a good chance of overwhelming the defenders before they could get themselves organized.

"Galaxy Commander." Daniela Mattlov walked up, a notepad in her hand, "Are you sure we have enough strength to defeat the mercenaries? Some of them are very skilled."

Lizabet turned to the younger warrior. "Yes, I am sure. Remember, we are the clans. They are only dezgra mercenaries. I tire of this game. I will destroy them once and for all, and claim the hidden base for the glory of the clan. Now go back to your mech, and prepare it for drop."

A tech walked up. "Galaxy Commander, we have finished loading up all our equipment. We are now ready for lift."

"Aff." She acknowledged the report. "We have no time to waste. Let us depart immediately."

Minutes later, the _Sword of Buhallin was streaking through the sky, accompanied by a star of aerospace fighters._

_The Door, Copernicus Caldera,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

High up in the cockpit of his _Night Gyr, Frank Meronac looked over his status screens one more time._

_Come on, hurry up._ He silently willed the key machines to succeed in their task, as a frustrated Lorik paced around the machines, which were placed in the shadow of one of the dropships.

They had tried more than sixty combinations in the past ten minutes, but nothing seemed to be working. The volunteers were all calmly sitting in their crouches, while some medtechs hovered around, ready to render assistance should anything untoward happen.

Lorik had already assured Frank that the volunteers were not the problem, as there was a definite low level psi output by the machines. But Frank could not think of any other reason for the lack of results so far.

The other mercs had been arranged according to their plan, all waiting for the Door to open. It was proving highly stubborn however, mocking Frank every time he looked at it, imploring it to grant some mercy on the poor humans for once.

Another ten minutes passed. Frank used the time to check in with his units, ensuring that everybody knew their roles. Ian was stationed on the outer line facing away from the Door, ready to engage enemies entering the caldera.

Descartin and the rest of the Raiders were lined up on the inner line, ready to rush into the base once the Door opened. The dropships had also been prepared for lift, in case they needed a quick getaway. Forsen seemed to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown when Frank contacted him.

Not that Frank was feeling any better. The air was taut with tension, the sort of feeling one gets when expecting a storm to appear any moment. More than one trooper had joked that the hairs on the back of their necks were standing up so rigidly from the tension that they were going to pop out.

If anyone had told him when they had just landed on the planet that he would be in charge of an entire regiment in slightly more than a week, Frank would have called the person delusional. Yet here he was, a Colonel, albeit temporary, of a mixed arms regiment.

_I wonder if I could somehow turn this into my own regiment. If so, I can take this back to the Fed-Com and maybe wrangle a barony for myself. And then I can ask the Duke for Clarice!_ He shook off the thought. It was just a pipe dream, and he doubted that he could even keep the Raiders together after the campaign.

After waiting for another five minutes, Frank lost his patience. _The hell with it_, Frank thought. "Lancer One, this is Raider Lead. I'm going EVA to check on the can-openers. You're in command until I get back."

"Wilco. Get back soon."

Lancer One was Ian Dorlacen's call sign for the day. Frank was Raider Lead, while the others were all assigned their codes according to their parent units.

Unclasping his safety harness, he opened his hatch and climbed down to the ground, where the key machines were. He ran up to Lorik.

"Any new ideas?" He directed the question at Lorik, who was staring helplessly at his display.

"Neg. I am cleaned out of inspiration." Lorik shrugged his massive shoulders. "I cannot accept that we have come so far only to be fail at this very last trial."

"How about some music then? Perhaps that will restore your spirits?" Tina offered, her harp held in one hand, obviously waiting for another opportunity to demonstrate her skill.

"Hear, hear!" The bored volunteers on the crouches gave her their approval. They were feeling bored just sitting on the crouches, and trying hard to stay awake. Frank glanced at Lorik, who simply got back to his work.

Frank started walking to his mech, knowing that there was nothing he could do.

Within seconds, the beautiful sounds of the harp was being produced by the Harbinger.

"How do you make such beautiful sounds? I've heard harps before, but those harps don't sound anything near what yours sound like." Commented one of the volunteers, Pascal Thome.

Tina smiled. "You're right. I got the strings for the harp specially manufactured by a scientists friend. He was a materials scientist, and he managed to siphon enough time and resources from his usual projects to help me. We tested out many materials for their overtone properties, and I chose the one with the richest sound."

Frank stopped in his tracks, just as he was about to ascend the ladder on the side of the mech. _Overtone?_ He turned and looked at Tina's harp. Lorik had stopped his work as well, and was also staring at Tina's harp. Frank tore his gaze away from the musical instrument and looked at Lorik, who was staring right back at Frank.

Tina and the medtech were surprised at the reactions of the two, and were wondering if they had gone mad from the stress.

"Eureka!" Frank and Lorik yelled at the same time, throwing up their hands in excitement. Lorik quickly turned to his computer, hammering new commands into it as Frank ran up, offering suggestions and corrections as Lorik quickly reprogrammed in the new commands. The puzzled onlookers were trying to decide whether to put the two into straightjackets. Thankfully, one look at Lorik was enough to convince them of the virtues of wait and see.

Overtones. The timbre and quality of music, and indeed of any sound, depended on the higher order waveforms that were imposed on the basic frequency. The overtones were what made one instrument sound different from another instrument, though they might be playing the same pitch.

If they were not so hard pressed by time, Lorik would have taken some time to bang his head against mech armor. As a physicist, he was supposed to understand all aspects of the science, not just the most common fields. The clans do not put much emphasis on the arts, however, and Lorik was lucky to even have an idea of what overtones meant. Still, that was no excuse for his oversight.

Frank, who have had quite a wide range of scientific training before becoming a doctor, had learnt quite a bit about the subject. With everything that had been going on, it had slipped his mind.

They were both feeling more than a bit sheepish that it was probably a Harbinger's mundane harp that saved the day. 

Lorik programmed the overtones into the machines, using the basic psi wave output of the volunteers as a template for further overtone production, all of which differ slightly to mimic the production of music with different instruments. He hoped the modified output would not have any adverse effects.

Frank got back to his _Night Gyr_ after Lorik had finished. He was absolutely sure that the key machines would work correctly this time. Though they had not tried it yet, Frank knew from his very guts that they were on the right track this time.

"Lancer One, this is Raider Lead. I'm back in my mech, anything special going on?"

"Negative." Ian's confident voice came in. "How about the can-openers?"

"Doing good. Look sharp, people. Lorik has figured it out, and he's going to transmit in a minute's time. Bottom line, be prepared for anything."

"Raider Lead, this is Nest One." Nest One was the call sign for the _Battle's Bane_, designated as the command dropship. "We're picking up atmospheric contacts on radar. One large dropship, and some fighters. Seems like the Falcons are joining the party! ETA 7 minutes!"

"Got it." Frank switched to his loudspeakers. "Lorik, just activate the whole damn thing. The Falcons are on the way. We don't have much time left."

He saw Lorik give him a wave to signal his acceptance of the order. Then the big scientist pressed firmly on a button.

Deserk did not know what was happening. One moment he was in his _Black Hawk_, checking his radar for enemy contacts.

The next he was staring at a scene from his deepest hopes. His wife, Reena, was playing with a young girl in a beautiful garden. The girl had her mother's looks, but her eyes were clearly Deserk's.

_Flash._

A scene he had witnessed a dozen times. A huge mass of black machines swarming towards a few mechs. This time, he saw his own _Black Hawk_ and Des' _Nova Cat_ leading the way against the enemy, tearing into the ranks of the black machines with a frightening single mindedness.

_Flash._

A cavernous throne room, resplendent with banners and decoration. The flags of all the successor states, the clans, and the various nations of the periphery could be seen flying proudly in the room. At one end was a throne. Above and behind it was the symbol of the Star League, a Cameron Star. A man was sitting on the throne.

It was Frank.

_Huh?_ Deserk had time for only one thought before the scene flashed out.

To Star Captain Descartin Winters, visions were supposed to be part and parcel of life as a Goliath Scorpion and a former Nova Cat. Still, he had not expected such scenes to appear.

A huge open plain, where hordes of black machines were advancing, suddenly filled with glaring light as a bolt of light descended from the heavens.

_Flash._

A ruined city, where a desperate battle was taking place. Des could not recognize the insignia on the mechs, but he did understand he was looking at a purple eagle on some of them. An _Urbanmech_, against all odds, was facing off against an assault lance, and incredibly, everything being thrown at it missed the can shaped mech. The _Urbie_ returned fire, savaging the advancing enemies.

_Flash._

A room full of splendidly dressed people. Nobles, he guessed. A beautiful brown-haired woman sat on an exquisite chair at one end of the room. Her presence exuded regal dignity and composure. Descartin saw a tall man standing near the woman. The woman stood, and took a sword from a nearby courtier. She offered the sword hilt first to the man, her eyes pleading. The man did not reply. He gave her a slow, sad smile, shook his head, turned around, and walked away out of the room, past the shocked nobles.

With a start, Descartin realized that he was the tall man.

Ian Dorlacen watched pensively as the images passed him by, fearing what he might glimpse of the past and the future.

A view of a battlefield, filled with smoke and the mangled remains of destroyed mechs. A familiar _Masakari_ staggered into view, looking like a worm-ridden corpse. Two swift looking black mechs descended on the once-powerful omni like vultures, tearing into its internal components with wild laser blasts. An _Awesome_ strode into view, and helped the clan mech fend off its enemies.

_Flash._

A city he recognized. The city he had grown up in. A fierce battle was taking place in its streets, waged by mechs and tanks and men. He stared in disbelief. His home, the place he grew up in, destroyed by war.

_Flash._

He saw a wedding in progression next, looking from one end of the aisle, behind the bride who was walking towards the altar. He could recognize many of the faces in the crowd. A lot of them belonged to his merc unit, and the friends he had made over the years. He saw the groom.

It was himself.

Frank knew what he was seeing right now were glimpses of the future, and perhaps the past as well. The psi generated from the key machines were wrecking havoc on the natural order of the universe, causing such visions across time possible.

He saw a vast space factory, the size of a moon. Nestled within its cradles are dozens of shining ships, gleaming with bright lights and new paint. On each ship, he could see the symbol of the Star League.

_Flash._

A bloated, reddish star hung in space, while a battle of almost unimaginable proportions was occurring around it. Even from his vantage point, Frank could see only a wild melee. Gigantic Warships tore at each other, while swarms of fighters charged at each other.

Suddenly, the star started shrinking, collapsing onto itself. Even more frightening to Frank was the fact that no light could be seen from the collapsed areas. Ships were there one moment, the next the space was only occupied by an intensely dark vacuum.

A black hole was born.

_Flash._

As impossible as it may seem, a hooded man was standing in front of him. The man drew back his hood, revealing the face of a handsome clean shaven man with blond hair. He stepped right up to Frank, and held out his hand as if offering Frank something. Frank looked down at the mans outstretched hand, and in the palm,  he saw a circlet, studded with barbs.

He looked back to the man's face, astonished that _this was happening in a vision!_ The man smiled grimly, and said, "The ability to wield power demands a price. For you, it is a crown of thorns. Will you take it, and fulfill your destiny?"

Frank wanted to reply, he wanted to know more about the cryptic offer, but his throat refused to work, constricted by fear and confusion.

_Flash._

Frank found himself back at the controls of his mech, the green lights on his console reassuring him of his mech's status. A deep rumbling sound could be heard in the distance.

The Door was slowly opening.

"Open sesame." Someone muttered over the comms.

_Its chance had arrived! The machine intelligence had already sent its units creeping slowly towards the surface once the machines had started transmitting. When the doors had started opening, it finally gave the orders for an all out advance towards the doors._

_It was not going to blow this precious opportunity. Huge saucers rose up through the depths of the oceans, ready to disgorge their cargo once they neared the target area._

_According to the AI, they should take only three minutes to reach the doors. That should be enough to destroy all opposition and get into the base interior. The previous effort had been foiled when it did not deploy its units quickly enough. This time was going to be different._

_It had learnt from its mistakes._


	25. Come Fly the Unfriendly Skies

_The Door, Copernicus Caldera,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery,_

_14th March 3068_

Contrary to the expectations of the assembled mercs, honed by years of indoctrination by holovid movies and _Immortal Warrior_ episodes, the doors did not just creep open slowly, like some ancient dinosaur that had not moved its body for centuries.

The initial opening was slow, but the Door suddenly accelerated, the two huge sections sliding into hidden grooves on either side. There was hardly a sound after the initial rumbling.

One moment they were staring at a widening crack in the side of the mountain, the next they were looking into a vast tunnel, illuminated by bright lighting from an incredibly tall ceiling.

_Must be some really great door lubricant. Score one for alien tech_, Frank thought distractedly. He did not move, like everybody else, their tasks forgotten by the abruptness of the event. Somehow, when opening doors, especially those for long lost bases, such situations practically guaranteed a slow gradual revelation of the entrance, thus giving the discoverers some sort of mental preparation.

They did not have that luxury. The huge opening remained where it was, beckoning them into its cavernous interior. Finally coming to his senses, Frank started issuing his orders.

"All units, this is Raider Lead. Raider Nine, move in. Lancer Toad, cover their rear. Everybody else prepare to follow in. The Falcons are burning in fast, so we gotta step it…"

"Uh, Raider Lead, this is Nest One." The comms operator sounded very nervous, unlike his earlier report. "We've picked up more contacts, and they seem to be from the sea, sir."

"Nest One, repeat all after more contacts." Frank couldn't believe his ears.

Meanwhile, the various units, shook out of their reverie by Frank's orders, started moving purposefully for their assigned positions.

"Frank, this is Nest Two." It was the _Nile_. "We are definitely picking up a large paint from the ocean heading here fast! We better get moving. Forsen says he doesn't want to find out who the newcomers are!"

"Affirmative. We're moving as fast as we can." Frank checked his scanners. Bryan's team had moved into the base, with Drenner and his elementals right behind them. The rest of the merc infantry were advancing into the base, along the walls of the corridor. The tanks and Kety's lance were getting ready to follow, while Ian had collapsed his lines, falling back to amongst the dropships, ready to follow the others into the safe sanctuary.

A call came in from the _Battle's Bane_ barely thirty seconds later. "Raider Lead, the new contacts have engaged the Falcons! It's a real mess out there!"

Star Captain Daniela Mattlov stared intently at the information flowing over on her screens, transmitted to her mech from cable feeds from the dropship while it was still nestled within the mechbay. She wanted to keep appraised of the dropship status, the status of her trinary, as well as a radar feed from the dropship sensors to check for any surprises.

Ten aerospace fighters were accompanying the _Sword of Buhallin_, commanded by one Star Commander Galietra Binetti. Composed by a mix of heavy and assault fighters, they were tasked to destroy the remaining mercenary fighters.

Out of nowhere, a huge spot suddenly appeared on the radar feed screen, directly under their dropship's present position. She did not even have time to react before there was a sudden lurch from the dropship.

She was flung forward, and only the tight safety straps prevented her head from a skull jarring collision with her control panel.

"What happened…" She barely had time to finish her question before the frantic call came in from the bridge.

"Galaxy Commander, there's several large vessels emerging from the sea below us. They appeared without warning and started firing at us! We have sustained several hits, and damage is moderate. Galietra Binneti is engaging, but the vessels are launching fighters as well, dozens of them! Prepare to drop once we're over land! I don't know how long I can keep the dropship in the air!" The use of contractions by the Star Captain further reinforced the urgency of the situation. The sounds of desperately shouted orders could be heard in the background. The ship shuddered violently.

Daniela heard Lizabet Danforth's reply. "Inform the Star Commodore immediately. Any idea who the enemies are?" The ship shook again, probably from the impact of weapons fire.

"Neg. We'll be approaching land in 20 seconds, get ready to drop!"

All around the bay, Daniela could see mechs slowly being pushed in their cradles by huge movers to the dropship doors. She checked the status of her attached jump packs, not wishing to end up splattered on the ground due to the jump pack failure.

A hover drop maneuver was already tough enough in the best of circumstances. Now they were being asked to drop right in the middle of a dogfight, with a damaged dropship and Kerensky knows how many enemy fighters swarming over them. Daniela shuddered. The whole thing was turning out to be a fiasco.

The shaking from enemy fire had not paused in those twenty seconds. If the extent of the shaking was any indication, the dropship was getting pummeled.

As the counter on her HUD counted down to zero, the bay doors opened, revealing a sight of a huge caldera below the ship, while numerous black fighters swarmed the air.

There were far too few green painted fighters in comparison for her to feel comfortable. This was no longer just a fight to destroy the mercs. It had turned into a fight for sheer survival.

"Good luck!" The dropship captain yelled as he cut them loose.

Her _Masakari_ was shoved out of the bay door, into the fiery skies, into the storm.

The terrifying visage of a _Scytha_ assault fighter slashed through the skies, its ER PPCs blazing particles of vengeance at its enemies, the hordes of black fighters that had boiled out of the huge saucers that had emerged from the oceans.

Its pilot, Star Commander Galietra Binneti of Clan Jade Falcon, was normally a calm and assured officer who had proven his skill and worth in dozens of border skirmishes since the Coventry campaign, where he had his first taste of combat.

His calm had failed him this time. His fighters had been accompanying the dropship when their radar had picked up contacts below them.

Galietra had an uncanny sense for detecting danger, and the present situation had certainly looked threatening. Before he even realized it, however, he had suddenly ordered his Star to break and roll away. The movement saved his command, as hundreds of laser beams and missiles pierced the air where they would have been if they had not carried out Galietra's order.

The sight of several huge saucers rising from the sea came next, as they disgorged a mass of black fighters. Each saucer was four hundred meters in diameter, almost half the length of their Jade Falcon Warships! They rose with amazing speed, heading towards the caldera, while the black fighters appeared as almost a solid wall, filling up the sky with fire and steel as they attacked his pilots.

That scene had nearly sent him mad. While he had kept a shaky hold on his mind, half of his Star was not as fortunate. They had gone berserk, disregarding their heat levels as they attacked the enemy with wild abandon, firing at anything that moved in the skies. While this might have been a real problem in a normal fight, Gal had since decided that the sheer number of enemy ships gave them plenty to shoot at, so it was not exactly a bad idea.

After downing three bogeys in one minute since the start of the action, Gal had managed to claw his sanity back from the brink. While there were a lot of enemies, they were poorly armed in comparison even to Inner Sphere fighters and seemed to be poorly piloted. That had helped him regain a great deal of his confidence.

The drop of the mechs had also helped to some extent. He had been involved in defending the dropship while it was still making its way to the drop zone, so that had forced him to forgo certain kills to concentrate on his mission. With the omnimechs safely out, he felt they could defend themselves now, and he could finally fight unrestrained by mission orders. The _Sword of Buhallin_ had likewise turned its direction of attack decisively towards one of the giant saucers, scattering the numerous black fighters before it as it burned forward the enemy at full speed, its weapons blazing at its tormentors.

He glanced at his rear camera screen, triggering his small pulse laser at a black fighter on his tail before going into an Immelman that brought him firmly on his former pursuer's six. Two Gauss slugs slammed into his target, literally punching through the enemy fighter.

Two more enemies swung in on his flank and above him. He did not flinch, cutting his speed and going into a wild scissors with the other two fighters before he emerged with both bogeys on his targeting cursors. He fired as soon as he had lined up his shots, one PPC at each target as he shifted the nose of his _Scytha_ through each opponent. Both ships exploded in air.

He ignited his afterburners, the sudden burst of speed throwing off more enemy shots. He knew that against such odds, to stay in a straight line at a fixed speed for more than two seconds was akin to a death sentence. Maneuver was the only way to survive for long. There was no way for them to fight in formation, his wingman having left long ago, being pursued by at least four other enemies. It was one desperate free for all in the crowded skies.

"Arghhh! My fighter is on fire! Going down!" A help call for help over the comms, as Pilot Triwer's _Visigoth_ careened into a saucer at incredible speeds. There was a tremendous explosion from the collision, and the saucer shuddered once, but managed to recover its progress towards the mountain peak.

Gal did not know about who his enemies were, or what they were after. He only knew that they shot at him, and therefore are his enemies, and by extension enemies of the clan. He would attempt to stop whatever they were trying to do, regardless of whether he knew their actual objectives or not. And since they were going to the mountain peak, then by the Kerenskys he was going to stop them! All thoughts of the mercenaries had by now been thrown out the cockpit.

Maintaining his acceleration as he gained on the slightly damaged saucer, he opened up at extreme range with all his forward weapons. Electron bolts and iron nickel slugs raced from his wings to the enemy ship, all the shots hitting precisely on the same point, a flat area of blackened and scorched armor, where Triwer's fighter had crashed into. The heavy attack eagerly devoured all the protection on the hull.

The saucer listed again, seemingly losing power to whatever was keeping it aloft. Gal had no idea what its propulsion systems are, and one corner of his mind was inquiring curiously about that very subject. There was no obvious exhaust port, nor was there a long tongue of fusion flame that indicated a fusion power plant. And very interestingly, there was not even a single weapon visible on the saucers. He shoved them back into he recesses of his mind. There would be time for such thoughts later. It was do or die right now.

They were still over the sea, although he judged that the saucer would be passing over land in another thirty seconds. It did not matter to him where it was. All he wanted now was to bring it down.

Dancing his _Scytha_ from side to side, he dodged the numerous shots from the fighters on his rear sizzling past his fighter as he tried to get another fix on the same location he had struck before. The reaction of the saucer to the previous attacks, and especially Triwer's crash, had given him some hope that the giant unidentified flying object could be brought down.

A shot from his many pursuers finally connected, pulverizing armor over his left wing surface. The suddenly sluggish controls and the damage sensors told him the rest of the story, that one of the ailerons had been hit, and that maneuvering was going to be a real problem.

Ignoring the shots that are passing ever closer to his fighter, Gal sighted at his target once again. He had approached to almost close range for his guns now, and he was virtually assured of a hit. As soon as he got a steady tone, he fired his guns again.

All four main guns blasted into the same spot again, this time completely bypassing the ruined armor into the saucer's inner components. Galietra did not know it, but his shots had been extremely lucky; they had hit the location containing the main power feed for the anti-gravity generators keeping the ship in the air.

The saucer suddenly lost all propulsion, plummeting towards the tiny strip of beach. Before Gal could congratulate himself on the kill, a flurry of shots slammed into his fighter, stripping most of the armor off. Cursing intently, he pushed the _Scytha_ into a dive, jinking erratically all the way.

He glance at his damage screens once, and what they told him was bad. He was losing fuel fast, and the engine's had been hit. He realized belatedly that the _Scytha_ was actually flying faster than it ever had. The engines must had been on overload.

That was a godsend in disguise for him, because it had allowed him to momentarily outdistance his pursuers. It was not going to last though. Either the engines would blow up from the stress, or the fuel would be completely consumed by the runaway engines or lost through the numerous holes in the fuselage.

Firing his rear mounted pulse laser to discourage close pursuit, Gal tried to move his stick, but the wing surfaces seemed to be stuck fast, fused and locked into place by the melted armor which had re-solidified, the bane of aerospace pilots everywhere. The only thing he could control was his pitch. Yaw and roll were out of the question. Even his speed was at the mercy of his engines and fuel.

Refusing to panic, he simply dived even lower, almost touching the ground with the belly of his fighter, flying nape pf the earth. Two black fighters failed to compensate sufficiently as they were flying so closely behind the _Scytha_ in low atmosphere that they crashed into the ground.

He could feel the fighter begin to shake violently, a clear sign that the engine was going to blow any moment soon. He persisted, knowing that every second he remained in the air meant that there would be five less fighters in the main battle.

"This is the _Sword of Buhallin_." A transmission broke in. "We are too damaged to stay afloat, and are going down! We'll still take one of those motherships with us! For the clan!" A final roar of defiance. It broke up into static.

Gal paid the message little heed. He had his own problems. He was headed straight for the mountain, and in about thirty seconds he was about to crash right into it. He could not shift left nor right to avoid the huge peak. He quickly thought of a plan to wipe out the fighters behind him, which were gaining distance again. It would probably not work, but that was all he had at the moment, other than the small pulse laser.

Pushing the fighter for all it was worth, Galietra lifted up its nose and headed for a point about a kilometer above the ground. He noted the presence of the mercenaries scattered below him, but he could not give them a damn after what he had been through. All he wanted now was war against the black fighters which had started the battle in such a dishonorable manner. He only hoped that the freebirths would not shoot at him.

He held his nerve, as the crippled _Scytha_ neared the massive wall of stone and rock. The black fighters stayed closely on his tail, leading him to suspect that their pilots must be incredibly brave or stupid to do so.

The mercenaries began to throw up anti-aircraft fire, a pattern of laser and PPC beams rising up before him from the mechs, tanks, and dropships. His _Scytha_ passed through the pattern unscathed, but three of his pursuers were hit and exploded in midair.

At the very last moment, about two seconds before the _Scytha_ hit the mountain, Galietra punched out. With his fighter in a slightly tilted upwards direction, he was flung back away from the explosion of his fighter. He was still able to see the effects of his gambit, as the following black fighters plowed into the mountain one after another, leaving a huge crater in the mountain slope.

_What sort of fools would fly their fighters into a mountain?_ He stared in disbelief. He had fully expected his last gamble to fail, not succeed so outrageously!

As his parachute opened up above him, he took out his pistol from his G-suit and checked its ammo. He would be dropping into the midst of the dezgra mercenaries.

_Warship _Blue Aerie_, In Orbit System,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

_14th March 3068_

Seated snugly in his command chair, Star Commodore Valten Folkner barked at his crew, exhorting them to speed up the fighter launch. The entire bridge had gone on red alert the minute the massive armada appeared on their scopes. The order to launch all available fighters had been given even before they had received the distress call from the planet below.

Each _Black Lion_ class battlecruiser carried twenty fighters in their bays. Valten Folkner had managed to wrangle another star of fighters for each of his precious ships, as he had wanted more fighter support for the warships, traditionally deficient against fighter attack.

His precautions had been well founded. They had picked up more than 500 airborne signatures engaged in a furious dogfight with the remaining fighter escorts for the _Sword of Buhallin_. One by one, the IFF readings from the overwhelmed fighters blinked out on a nearby panel, signs of a dead, dying, or ejected pilot and one scrapped omnifighter.

The sixty fighters from the warships were flung into space, followed by another sixty fighters that were assigned to Rho Galaxy. Valten took the decision to override Lizabet Danforth's authority, due to the urgency of the situation. They would be heavily outnumbered, and even though the indications from the initial contact showed that the newcomers had paid a high price for killing the Falcon escorts, Valten did not favor his warriors' chances when outnumbered almost five to one. He sought to even the odds as much as possible.

"Star Commodore!" The sensor tech called for his attention. "We have lost all our fighters near the caldera! The enemy fighters are entering the upper atmosphere! I think they are going to attack us!"

Valten punched in several buttons on his console, bringing him into communications with his fighter commander. "Star Captain Rocaz, enemy fighters are heading towards the warships. Keep them away as much as possible. I am releasing the _Turkina's Fury_ to assist. Enemy numbers are estimated at about six to seven hundred fighters. Conserve your ammo."

"Aff, Star Commodore!"__

_Turkina's Fury_ was one of the relatively new _Noruff_ class assault dropships, heavily armed and even more maneuverable than many omnifighters. Its addition to the fighter screen was easily worth another thirty fighters.

Looking out at the forward view with his enhanced eyesight, Valten could pick out tiny specks in the planet's atmosphere, flying up amongst the clouds. His fighters advanced in a smaller wave, but no less potent.

Within seconds, the two forces slammed into each other, the initial exchange completely in favor of the Falcons as their heavier armor and weapons took a heavy toll on the black fighters.

The initial headlong charge had dissolved into a swirling melee, on a scale not seen since the liberation of Terra by the armies of Kerensky, three centuries ago.

Valten had refused to think about the implications of this latest development. He did not want to admit that the mercenaries might be correct after all; there was indeed extraterrestrial presence on the world below, of which the black fighters were simply a manifestation.

In any case, he was assured by his warriors' continuing success. The black fighters had numbers on their side, nothing more. In terms of skill, daring, armor, and weapons, they were completely outclassed by the human fighters.

"Sir?" The tech manning the system-wide probes, different from the one surveying the planetary atmosphere, spoke up. "I am receiving weird readings from a probe stationed at the fourth planet, the gas giant. It is… Savrashi! We have lost the probe!"

"How?" Valten asked.

"Checking now… By the Kerenskys… This is not possible, this is not possible." The tech started stammering, muttering to herself in shock as she sat back in her seat, terrified. 

"_What is it?_" Valten roared.

"Another… warship. She croaked out. "Hidden in the gas giant. But… but that's impossible, isn't it?"

Valten jumped up from his seat, and kicking out with his legs against his chair, floated to the tech's console. He snarled once at the petrified tech, hoping that she would oblige him by showing the visual image from the destroyed probe. Seeing no reaction, he hammered in the commands himself, to replay the last transmission from the probe.

Only to confront an image of an ugly black monstrosity with bulging weapons ports and numerous bulbous structures all over. The image showed the unknown ship approaching the probe, then one of its guns flashed once. The image broke up into static.

Well, he thought to himself darkly, he had asked for a warship battle. It looked like his wish would be granted soon. The fourth planet was still pretty far away, so they would have quite enough time to mop up the enemy fighters and prepare for the warship battle.

As he turned back to his seat, there was a sudden rocking of the bridge. He barely avoided having his face smashed against a bulkhead as he used his arms to cushion his movement into a bulkhead.

"What happened?" He twisted himself around and flew to the holotank, hoping to get a clearer picture of the battle. He thought it was a fighter that had slipped past his screens.

He was stunned to see a new signature in the space around the planet, a designation "Unknown" by his sensor techs. It was rated as being as big as the _Blue Aerie_ itself. The visual on a small screen below the holotank showed a picture of the enemy warship itself.

It was indeed the same ship that had blasted his probe apart. The implications of this was staggering.

Any transmission over the huge distances in space was generally limited to the speed of light. Even the final message from the probe had taken five minutes to reach the _Blue Aerie_. That the enemy ship had appeared so soon after the probe was destroyed gave Valten a real fright. It meant that the ship had non Kearny Fuchida Faster-Than-Light capability.

He knew that it did not have KF capability because if it did, the jump appearance would have been heralded by intense IR radiation beforehand. The only other explanation was that it had some form of movement that allowed it to reach speeds approaching that of light, which was unknown to humanity.

The unknown warship had taken a series of cheap shots at the port sides of the two Falcon warships. Interestingly, and quite a relief for Valten, the hits were standard naval laser blasts and particle beams, not the death ray weapons he had expected after dredging up memories of science fiction shows on late night cable holovids in a rundown motel on an Inner Sphere world. Valten determined that the previous hits would be the first and only open shots available to the enemy ship.

"All gunners, weapons free! Fire at will!" He yelled as he quickly clambered back to his command chair. The warship shuddered slightly as the side naval autocannons fired their massive projectile loads towards the enemy ship. The huge launchers ejected their enormous multi-ton guided missiles. The _White Aerie _did the same, its weapons firing in a pattern almost identical to that of the _Blue Aerie_.

The missiles and heavy slugs streamed through space, heading for the starboard hull of the black ship. Suddenly, a slight blue shimmer pulsated around the impact area as the shots hit the target. The autocannon rounds exploded onto the blue lighted area, as did the missiles. Untouched, the enemy ship continued to advance menacingly towards the two Falcon warships.

Everyone on the _Blue Aerie_ gaped in disbelief. As they watched, more small black fighters burst out of the black warship, angling for the human ships.

As he felt his guts twist upon themselves, Valten Folkner remembered the old saying. _Be careful what you wish for… you might just get it._


	26. Plucking The Feathers

_The Door, Copernicus Caldera,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery,_

_14th March 3068_

Punching his visual sensors to their maximum magnification, Ian Dorlacen could see the massive air battle going on in the distance, a swarm of angry locusts swarming over the unfortunate Falcons. His own troops were waiting nervously for the doors to be cleared by the other mercs.

Just seconds ago, a lone Falcon fighter had approached the door, followed by at least 7 more black fighters, which Ian figured to be drone controlled, just like the _Spidercrabs_.

He had instructed the dropships and his own mechs to throw up a wall of defensive fire, specifically at the black fighters, and leaving the _Scytha_ alone. He had a feeling that the Falcons would soon be the least of their worries.

The _Scytha_ had smashed into the mountain, while the black fighters had followed suit. The Falcon pilot had managed to eject, and was presently drifting down on his parachute, where a number of Lancer infantry were waiting to take him into custody.

He turned his attention back to his radar screen. He had gotten the _Battle's Bane_ to give him a direct laser feed for its sensors, rather than relying on his own _Awesome_'s antiquated systems.

Almost a whole cluster of Falcons had grounded near the edge of the caldera, fifteen kilometers away. They were being pressed on all sides by a mass of black machines, highly reminiscent of Deserk's dreams that Frank had mentioned during the final briefing. The Falcons were slowly working their way to Galileo's Tower, and had managed to shift the battle five kilometers nearer.

The black machines were from the massive saucer like ships hovering over the battlefield. A few of the saucers were advancing towards the Door, though, which made Ian very, very nervous.

Corporal Tom Huckley raised his SMG to the alert position as the man in the parachute came down. His squad followed suit, as they quickly established a perimeter around the Falcon pilot.

He held up his left arm, to signal his troops to hold their fire as he walked up to the Falcon. The clan aerospace pilot had landed just before he was completely covered by his parachute, and was only just struggling out of the tangle of nylon and wires.

Tom walked up to within five meters of the pilot and shouted, "Hold your hands up where I can see them!"

Galietra froze as he heard the words. He had plenty of time coming down to spot the mercenary troopers, and he had planned to go down fighting, hopefully taking a few of the enemy with him.

That was clearly impossible now, with his arms still stuck within the tangle of the parachute and the troopers already with their guns aimed at him. Bowing to the inevitable, he raised his arms in surrender.

Tom recalled Major Ian's orders concerning the clan warrior, and said, "Warrior of Clan Jade Falcon, the Arch Lancers hereby claim you as bondsman. Do you understand and accept this decision?"

Galietra nodded his head sullenly. He had no other choice. He had no wish to die a futile death.

Tom lowered his SMG and beckoned the other members of his squad forward as he helped the clan warrior from the parachute.

"I'm Corporal Tom Huckley, what's your name?" Tom asked as he pulled Galietra up.

"I am Galietra Binneti. Who is supposed to be my bondsmaster? You?"

Tom laughed. "Of course not! That would be the Major, I guess. Come on, we don't have much time left. Here's my comms. Major Ian wants to speak to you." As he said this, Tom started the group moving back to the vicinity of the Doors.

Gal followed the mercs, and he glanced inquiringly at the massive hole in one side of the mountain before taking the proffered handset.

Ian did not waste time with pleasantries. He had a whole lot of questions to ask the former Falcon, and he wanted answers fast.

"Bondsman, this is Ian Dorlacen, commander of the Arch Lancers. What is your name?" He literally barked. His eyes were transfixed on the radar feed from the dropship, as it showed the movement of the saucers as they moved slowly towards the Door.

"I am Galietra Binneti." The reply over his earphones was sullen, angry, and short, which Ian knew was typical for captured clanners.

"I've got a few questions, so answer me quick. What happened out there? What were you doing with the dropship?"

"We were on our way to attack this encampment when the black machines appeared from the ocean. They attacked us, and we defended ourselves as a matter of course. The dropship dropped off its mech detachment before returning to the aerial battle."

"What are the units involved with the your attack?" Ian asked.

"The units involved are Rho Galaxy Command Trinary, Supernova Trinary Bravo and Trinary Gamma from the 124th Striker."

Ian mused over the info for a while. The presence of the Galaxy Command Trinary could only mean that the Galaxy Commander had put in a personal appearance. And the Arch Lancers were already well-acquainted with Supernova Trinary Bravo.

He asked Gal, "So Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth is here, quiaff?"

"Aff. She wanted to destroy you and claim the Star League base for herself."

Ian laughed loudly as he heard this. "No, this is no Star League base. It is something far older, and quite possible the cause of the black machines. It is an alien base!"

"Impossible!" Even over the radio, the Falcon's disbelief was plain.

"Why don't you go in with the rest of my troops and see for yourself? Now hand the set over to Corporal Huckley." There was a short shuffling sound.

"Tom here." The voice of the infantryman came in a few seconds later. "What do you want us to do with this guy, sir?"

"Keep an eye on him, and take him into the base. It might be even better if you could get Lieutenant Drenner to talk to him for a while. And I know you guys already have all the scuttlebutt on what's going down, that's why I mentioned the aliens. But keep your mouth shut. No need to advertise this little tidbit. Lancer One out."

Ian opened a line to Frank next. The _Night Gyr_ had now moved into the long corridor, while the advance search teams were heading ever deeper into the complex.

"Raider Lead, this is Lancer One. We just captured a Falcon pilot, and he gave us a few useful squawks. Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth's somewhere in that class A snafu out there, and she's got almost a whole cluster with her. The saucers are coming just a bit too quickly for me to feel comfortable right now, and I think we had better get the dropships into the complex soon."

"I'm working on it." Frank replied. "I don't know if the floor can take the heat from the dropship engines, but I think we've cleared enough space in here for all our dropships to land. The ceiling is high enough, while there's a lot of width here. This corridor's sloping downwards gradually, and I have no idea where it's leading. I think you can pull your guys in here now. But I've got another plan."

"What's that?"

"Save the Falcons."

Ian was flabbergasted. "Raider Lead, are you out of your mind? Those Falcons want us dead!"

"I know, I know. But think about it. We save Lizabet Danforth, and then she will owe us big time. That could be one heck of a bargaining point later. What do the rest of you think?" Frank asked on the open channel.

"This is Ranger One." It was Hamirah Rasouf. "I refuse to take any action that might profit the clans. I will not allow any of my troops to take part in your foolish scheme."

Robert Feehan agreed with Frank. "This is Warrior One. I think we should help. Those black machines don't seem too discriminating in their choice of targets. I say we help."

One by one, the mercenary commanders voted in the impromptu poll. It came down to Ian, who had the final vote, which would decide the tie.

He sighed in his cockpit. There are a number of factors to consider. First, while he had just said that he did not really trust the Falcons to cut them a bit of slack, he also knew that the addition of the Falcon mechs would be a great boost if they had to fight the black machines, which seemed unavoidable. The black machines, judging from their similarity to the _Spidercrabs_, would just as eagerly attack the mercs if given the chance.

Second, the numbers of the black mechs being reported by the _Battle's Bane_ was overwhelming even _its_ sensors. The last count had stopped at about 800 non-merc, non-Falcon fusion signatures surrounding the Falcons mechs, not counting the black fighters in the sky, which were now flying off into space. Ian guessed they were going to attack the Falcon warship.

The odds were bad, and Ian figured that having the Falcons dead at the hands of the black machines was not exactly an assurance that the mercs would survive either. Better that they fight off the enemy together, then settle amongst themselves for the spoils. There _was_ a case for working together.

Thirdly, there was the matter of his duel with the commander of Supernova Trinary. He felt obliged to ensure that it comes to pass, for honor, and also to prove that he was the better warrior. Pride was a huge motivating factor for any warrior.

Fourth, and last of all, and perhaps most importantly, there was that strange little vision before the Door was opened.

He finally answered, "This is Lancer One. I say we help them. No matter what the Falcons did, they treated us and the warriors they captured reasonably. All we can expect from these black machines is a mass grave. Better the Falcons than these strange drones. Let's fight them!"

Without waiting for a reply by Frank, he switched over to the Lancers' general frequency. Ian quickly gave his orders. "All Lancers, listen up! We're going on a extraction and rescue op. We're going to pull the Falcons' feathers out of the fire, and anyone who doesn't like it can stay behind! Lancer Toad One, get your men to hitch a ride on the nearest mech. Lancer Tracks, cover our flanks. All mechs follow me!"

As he said so, Ian started his _Awesome _running towards the battle in progress fifteen kilometers away. As he did so, the entire Arch Lancer force swung in behind him, along with some other merc units, mostly fast tanks, tagging behind.

Ian could hear that Frank was busy as well, quickly deploying the mercenaries, or at least those willing to help the Falcons. "All units, this is Raider Lead! I want a line covering the Lancers' rear! Those saucers are coming in fast and I don't want the Lancers to get cut off when they get back! The Raiders will establish a line ten clicks out. The Warriors will form a line five clicks out. Scorpion One, you join the Warriors. All available tanks will hook up with the Warriors. The rest of you who don't want to rescue the turkeys, hold the fort. Bird Lead, your fighters are free to launch and engage. Keep the saucers away. All Nests, get your engines fired up. It's time to roost in here."

The rest of the mercs moved into action. All those who had voted to help the Falcons carried out Frank's orders, while the remaining fighters launched from the dropships, seeking to destroy or disable the saucers before they could release their deadly cargo near the Door. Rising on tongues of nuclear flame, they prepared for the second aerial battle of the day over the caldera.

_The machine intelligence was perplexed that it had lost three of its motherships so quickly. The flesh beings were fighting better than it had ever anticipated._

_Far, far better than the laughable attempts of the Qlictorio Alliance. Masters of science they might have been , but woefully lacking in the arts of war, every single member race of that long extinct alliance almost pacifist in nature._

_These flesh beings were much different. The machine intelligence had never met opponents as tenacious and skilled as these. It had assumed that its fighters would overwhelm the flesh-beings in the skies and on the ground within minutes, yet the battle was still waging furiously._

_Its sole space vessel, a light cruiser left in the gas giant, was now engaged in a deadly dance with the flesh-beings' space-faring ships. The battle was even thus far, with the cruiser forced to divert a great deal of energy to its shields to avoid hull damage, therefore leaving less energy for its own weapons to hurt its enemies. The machine intelligence was resigned to the fact that its creators did not equip the cruiser with antimatter torpedoes or even fusion ones that would have easily won the battle against the shieldless human ships._

_The human ships had even sent smaller ships against the cruiser, with surprising effectiveness. At the very least, it was devoting more energy to defense than to attack. It was also not fast enough to spool up the hyperdrive to evade the enemy shots._

_Its own fighters had mostly been sent into space to occupy the enemy fighters and warships, with only a handful left to defend the weaponless motherships. It did not want the enemy warships to fire its weapons from orbit at the motherships, which would be disastrous. The motherships were capable of quick vertical movement, for quick orbital drops, but their speed in horizontal directions was extremely slow, which would make them fine targets for orbital fire. They were never meant for extended planetary actions in the first place._

_The doors were still open, and it had sent its nearest motherships with full loads of combat drones towards it. Unfortunately, it had devoted a lot of drones to the battle on the edge of the caldera, and they were suffering tremendous losses._

_The base was still the overriding concern, however, and the motherships would be at the door soon. Once they get there, entering the base should be easy for the forces it had sent._

Stepping her _Warhawk _sideways desperately to avoid a series of PPC blasts, Daniela Mattlov blinked away the beads of sweat forming on her eyelids. The heat in her cockpit was steadily rising, and things did not seem to be improving any time soon.

The Falcons had grounded near each other while under attack from the various black fighters. Thankfully, none of the mechs were heavily damaged.

Under Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth's instructions, they had turned their guns on one of the saucers slowly making its way over the beach. They had downed it, but in reply, the other saucers had disgorged more black machines from their bellies as they dropped to near ground level. This time, the machines were not fighters, but battlemechs.

As individual mechs, they were no match for the Falcon omnimechs. The first wave of enemy mechs fell quickly under the immense firepower of Daniela and her warriors.

As more and more black mechs appeared though, the Falcons found themselves slowly being pushed back. It was not long before they found themselves utterly surrounded on all sides.

Daniela had no idea what she was facing, but she did not believe she was facing mechs piloted by humans. The enemy mechs moved awkwardly, and she had never seen an ejection pod from a downed or destroyed mech since the start of the battle. This made her think that they were facing drone mechs.

In a way, that had her extremely worried. That meant that the enemy might not have any vulnerabilities in terms of morale and endurance. Even clan pilots, as well-trained as humanly possible, are still prone to collapse and physical exhaustion.

And Daniela knew they were fast approaching that point. They had already lost more than a star of mechs, and its destruction had split the Falcon forces. Her troops and those of Trinary Gamma in one group, and the Galaxy Commander in another. Daniela's detachment had been trying to make their way to the middle of the caldera, where the Galaxy Commander had hoped that the mercenaries could attract some attention from the black mechs.

The Galaxy Commander's force was now more than five kilometers away, being chased by almost a hundred more black mechs. Lizabet Danforth had split the Falcons to draw off part of the enemy, thinking that the smaller pieces could be more easily handled.

_Faint hope of that happening now_, Daniela thought as she blasted through the center of another black mech with her pulse lasers. The enemy mech collapsed to the ground, a smoking ruin. Two more machines advanced to take its place.

One of them was one of the few assault class mechs she had spotted within the enemy ranks. It had a large energy gun barrel on each arm, along with what she guessed to be a large-bore autocannon in the left torso.

The other one was in the by now familiar medium class, packing two large lasers and two mediums. It was not too big a threat, but there were _so_ many of them. One of her warriors had jokingly called it a _Lemming_, initially because of their suicidal propensity to attack the Falcons. The joke turned out to be on the Falcons, as true to their name, more and more of them appeared to follow the first few in attacking the Falcons.

She had noticed something strange about the enemy machines. While they all consisted of four basic types, with the lightest being a 20 tonner they called an _Ant_, each basic type had a variety of weapons packages that was reminiscent of their very own omnimech loadouts.

Each weight class seemed to have a laser boat version, a SRM version, a LRM version, and an ballistic weapon version. The laser ones were the most frequently encountered, and by now they had faced enough opponents to know exactly what most types and subtypes packed in way of armor and weaponry.

The assault class mech fired first, a PPC bolt issuing from its right arm. The blast bit deep into her left leg, and she had to shift the weight of the _Warhawk_ quickly to avoid falling. The medium mech followed up with two laser blasts, but both shots missed her mech by mere inches.

Turning her guns on the _Lemming_, she fired off her entire arsenal of pulse lasers and particle cannons, the weapons carving deep into the enemy mech and setting off a tremendous explosion as its fusion engine unleashed its bottled plasma. The explosion enveloped the other mech, staggering it as it continued to advance.

Daniela blinked away more sweat as the temperature in her cockpit soared. Her heat level was running near the red zone now, and any more increase in heat would result in more movement and targeting penalties. Her mech was already responding sluggishly to her commands, while her targeting circuits were showing her more and more interference.

Backing up the _Warhawk_ a few steps to maintain her distance from the black assault mech she had dubbed the _Bruiser_, Daniela quickly checked on her warriors. Most of them were still fighting, but CLG was about to settle in quickly. Many mechs had lost more than half their armor, while a number had suffered internal hits. Trinary Gamma was much in the same condition.

Meanwhile, the black mechs kept on coming. Attempting to keep her heat levels down, Daniela fired only her two PPCs at the middle of the _Bruiser_. To her dismay, the shots did not penetrate into the center internals like they had the other black mechs, but were handily stopped by the thick armor on the mech.

Muttering out a few choice epithets, Daniela braced herself for the return salvo. Sure enough, this time it was another PPC blast, along with a large laser beam. Both shots hit, scoring on her mechs torso. This time Daniela managed to regain her balance quite handily, but the approaching shadows of yet another wave of mechs behind the _Bruiser_ told her she had to finish it off _now_.

Taking a deep breath, Daniela moved her targeting cursor again. Settling it over the damaged center of the _Bruiser_, she prepared to fire. While the mech had managed to withstand her initial salvo, Daniela had never known a mech that could survive a full blast from the _Warhawk_, especially after it had already been mauled by two PPCs.

Holding her breath all the while, she pressed the trigger for her PPCs, followed by one pulse laser. The stream of electrons devoured the last of the armor protection, and went to work on the internals. The large pulse laser completed the job, as the _Bruiser_ crashed to the ground.

She took advantage of her lack of immediate enemies to assist Star Commander Jedec in destroying a heavy class mech they called the _Smasher_. It was given the name due to its hard hitting weapons loadout, which consisted of two PPCs. While not as heavily armed as the venerable _Warhammer_, it still posed a deadly threat, especially in large numbers.

Trying to bring her heat levels back to minimal levels, Daniela fired only two large pulse lasers this time. The stuttering laser darts plunged into the enemy mech's leg, which had already been denuded of armor by Jedec's _Summoner_. The laser energy blazed all the way into the leg structure, effectively breaking the leg. The _Smasher_ fell.

A panting Jedec said, "Thank you, Star Captain. But I fear we will not last much longer. I have only two gauss slugs left, and my SRM ammo is all gone."

"Hang on, Jedec. We will break through to safety soon, or maybe reinforcements might be arriving if we can hold out long enough." Fat chance of that happening, but she kept that sentiment to herself.

"You are lying. Nobody ever reinforces failure." An old military cliché, but still true even in the modern age of battlemechs and warships. Daniela did not know how to respond.

Morale was hitting rock bottom. Even though she was feeling hopeless as well, she steeled herself for the task ahead. It would do them no good to feel negative. Even if they were going to die, she had decided that they would be taking as many enemies with them.

It took her a moment to realize that the next wave had not attacked immediately as expected. However, the Galaxy Command Trinary was by now 8 kilometers away, and still separated by almost a hundred more enemy mechs. A linkup was impossible.

What she saw coming at them next almost froze her blood. The Falcons had managed to hold out for so long solely because the enemy came at them in waves of about thirty to forty mechs each, spaced at about 90 second intervals. This had allowed the Falcons to eliminate one set of opponents quickly enough to regain their defensive positions and let their heat levels subside enough for the next wave.

No such luxury now. Daniela could count an entire phalanx of black mechs marching towards her battered troops, in more than ten deep rows of fifteen mechs each. Onward they marched in step, a rolling tide of death embodied in metal and plastic. There would be no piecemeal taking apart of the enemy this time. It would be a fight to the finish.

Daniela leveled the arms of her _Warhawk_ at the enemy, as did the remaining Falcons. The range advantage they enjoyed meant that they could get in at least two punishing volleys before their opponents got into range.

A hail of fire erupted from the Falcon line, decimating the first line of enemies. Black mechs fell backwards from the devastating fusillade, the front row causing a ripple throughout the entire formation as they toppled down. As they fell back, they shoved against the mechs directly behind them. As those mechs affected in the second row stumbled to maintain their balance, the advance was temporarily halted.

The Falcons fired one salvo after another in massed fire, seeing their chance to do some real damage. The enemy had made a grievous error in advancing in such close file. Any disruption of the attackers in the front rank would make the task of the ones behind that much harder.

Black mechs in the next rank often had to step over the bodies of their fallen to get at the Falcons. With the mechs in the back pushing them forward, they had no choice but to continue advancing, on very shaky footing. The ground, littered with the metal husks of destroyed mechs, was proving as deadly to the black machines as the Falcons, as they provided very unstable fighting platforms on which to make a stand, as well as a stumbling block on their heels.

The entire front had stagnated, with the Falcons desperately trying to thin their enemies' ranks before they were defeated by their own heat levels and by shortage of ammunition, while the black machines vainly pressed ahead, not knowing that it was their own tactics that was the main reason for their lack of progress.

If the machine intelligence had any idea of human history, it would have realized that it had used almost the exact same tactics as the French against the English at Agincourt more than 1600 years ago, and about to suffer much the same fate. It was not stupid, however, and had been readying another force of 30 heavy and assault mechs on one flank of the battle to hit the occupied Falcons.

As Daniela destroyed two more _Lemmings_ with her pulse lasers and PPCs, she could see the new contacts on her flank. At that point, she knew her troops had reached the end of the line. The Falcons had fought bravely, and had held out far longer than anyone could expect, but she did not have anything left to send up against the new flank attack.

In her mind's eye, she could already see the two enemy forces slowly enveloping her outnumbered mechs, splitting the attacks of the Falcons and causing less overall damage to the black mechs. The twin pronged enemy attack, one directly against their center, and one on the flank, would drive the Falcons from their defensive positions. Deprived of space to run or maneuver, her forces would soon die under overwhelming enemy fire.

Gritting her teeth as her _Warhawk_ shuddered under the combined fire of two _Smashers_ that had arrived on the flank, she decided to give her troops one last chance to escape the enveloping jaws of the enemy force. She pushed her throttle forward, charging straight at the enemy, unleashing the full weight of her guns against the weaker flank attack. If she could blast a hole through, her troops could disengage.

"Jedec, hold the line with Trinary Gamma!" The Star Captain in command of Trinary Gamma, Kresslock, had died when his _Summoner_'s engine had gone critical. Jedec, by virtue of his command of a Nova, had seniority only surpassed by Daniela on the field. She hoped she could count on him to hold the line while she sought to blast a way out.

Jedec's _Summoner_ replied by moving to the fore of Trinary Bravo, while laying down a burst of fire with its large pulse laser, the emerald darts peppering the black mechs.

There was not much left of Gamma, nor of Supernova Trinary Bravo. Out of their original combined starting strength of 30 mechs and 75 elementals, restored by transferring in survivors from other units, there were only 20 mechs and 45 elementals left.

"Olager, get about ten of your elementals into ambush positions among the mech wreckage. Pick the most badly injured. I need them as a holding force when we pull back." She could see the elemental waving his arms in acceptance, as Olager bounded off among his troops to organize the rearguard.

The elementals had not been idle during the fighting, wrecking havoc amongst the enemy whenever there was a chance. They had long ago exhausted their SRM packs, and all the bulky launchers had been jettisoned.

It was a brutal decision to leave behind a suicide party, but a necessary one. They had tried to break out three times before, but each attempt had fallen short. She had to assume that the enemy was running low on available mechs to send at them. It was her last roll of the dice for survival.

She failed to pay enough attention to her own battle. One arm was torn off the _Warhawk_ as a gauss slug from a _Bruiser_ slammed into the mech's shoulder. The _Warhawk_ tottered, as Daniela reeled from the loss of the limb. Trying to stay upright as she fired her pulse lasers at the assault mech, she stomped desperately on her foot pedals. Tired from more than ten minutes of furious combat, her finely honed skills finally failed her, as she overcorrected, sending the massive mech to the ground.

The _Bruiser_ did not seem distressed as the pulse lasers sent armor sizzling all over its legs. It stopped, pointing both arms at Daniela's downed mech.

Sensing her opponent's actions, Daniela stopped her frantic struggle to regain her feet. As she looked up, she found herself staring at the long, deep gauss barrels of the _Bruiser_. She fought the urge to close her eyes, wanting to stare death right in the face as it came upon her. Death in combat was all a warrior of the clans asked for.

Without warning, a hail of gauss slugs suddenly stormed out of nowhere, one of them neatly decapitating the _Bruiser_'s head. The assault mech crashed to the ground with an audible thump.

A group of hover vehicles slid into view, skirting the edge of the battlefield as they continued to fire heavy iron nickel slugs at the black mechs. It took Daniela a moment before she realized she should know these newcomers. She had seen them countless times on replayed battle ROMs, and their insignia of a helmet pierced by a lance was one she had faced two times already on the field.

Behind the vehicles, she could see the silhouettes of more than a company of mechs approaching her position, including the blocky and familiar shape of an _Awesome _assault mech.

The Arch Lancers had arrived, but Daniela hoped they were not just destroying the black mechs just so they could pick apart the Falcons themselves. She slowly stumbled the battered _Warhawk_ to its feet.


	27. Semblance Of Unity

_The Door, Copernicus Caldera,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery,_

_14th March 3068_

"Attention, Jade Falcons! This is Major Ian Dorlacen of the Arch Lancers!" Ian shouted over the general frequency as he fired his PPCs, the electron bolts burrowing into a black mech and setting its internals ablaze. "We're holding the door open for you, proceed to the mountain _now_!"

The Arch Lancers had advanced in good order towards the battle, accompanied by some fast vehicles belonging to the Death Dancers and Harry's Harassers. The rest of the mercs had formed up strong points at various distances between the Lancers and the Door, ready to keep the lines open should the saucers manage to drop more mechs on top of them.

The ten fighters of the combined mercenary aerospace forces had engaged the remaining fighter escorts following the saucers just two minutes ago. Though outnumbered by their opponents, their odds were not as bad as the Falcons. They were up against _only_ 30 enemy fighters. Oh yeah, no problem.

The threat of the mercenary fighters had forced the saucers to slow down their approach towards the Door, and even to retreat from the door somewhat. Unfortunately, none of the saucers had been destroyed yet.

Ian quickly took stock of the situation, assessing the Falcon mechs as they came into view. Every one of the omnimechs was mangled beyond belief, bare myomer sticking out of exposed limbs, electrical sparks sizzling through open actuators, smoke boiling out of countless punctured holes.

"Major Ian, what are you doing here?" He recognized the voice of Daniela Mattlov. He could also hear a sense of relief in her voice, although he was sure the doughty clanners would never admit their relief.

"Like I've said, pulling your feathers out of the fire." Ian replied as he sent a PPC bolt at another black mech. "Proceed ASAP to the mountain! We will accompany you along the way. We have forces stationed along the route. Just move!"

He punctuated the last sentence with an alpha strike at an assault class black mech. One particle beam lucked out, finding a weak spot in the armor and destroying some of the black mech's engine shielding.

The acknowledgement was not long in coming. "Aff. All Falcon units, head for the mountain, but leapfrog and cover each other. Olager, get your elementals on the nearest omnimech. Command Star, stay with me. We will not run like surats with our backs to our foes. We will execute a fighting retreat." To Ian, she sounded entirely too calm in her reply, and it spoke volumes about her strength of character.

Then she added in a derogatory tone, "I do not think the money soldiers would be able to hold out long on their own anyway."

Ian had to bite back a quick retort, not wanting to threaten their tenuous alliance. He swallowed his anger, and turned it into more fuel for his fight.

The Falcons seemed only too eager to follow her instructions, granted a reprieve by the arrival of the mercenary force. Ian saw Daniela's _Masakari_, missing an arm, walk backwards past the line the mercs had set up. Another _Thor_ rose up on gouts of flame, flying over the line as it raked the enemy line with bursts of laser flechettes.

Lieutenant Moussa N'Diaye came up behind him in his _Archer_, launching 40 LRMs into the ground between the black mechs and the retreating Falcons. While that might be mistaken for poor marksmanship, Ian knew better. Those were Thunder LRMs, loaned from the Death Dancers.

The minefield was further expanded by Rhona Martin's _Catapult_, spewing out another 30 missiles as she advanced beside Moussa. The bird-like mech stood its ground along with the rest of the Lancers as the enemy mechs recovered from the initial impact of the mercenary attack.

A swarm of SRMs from a group of light mechs lashed out at Ian's _Awesome_, as they lost their legs in the heavy minefield laid down by his LRM boats. The missiles slammed all over his mech, but failed to worry him. He had plenty of protection left to spare.

Twisting the _Awesome_'s torso to the right, Ian fired another salvo at a group of mechs trying to outflank his line. His entire command lance followed suit, pouring fire into the _Lemmings_. The Falcons had already dumped all the target information they had acquired on the enemy so far into the Lancer Warbook programs, updating their IFFs.

The black mechs had lost all cohesion, and were rushing at the combined force in a haphazard wave of obsidian metal. They either did not seem to mind the minefield between them and the humans, or they did not care. A multitude of explosions could be seen erupting from the ground as they swarmed over it. There were simply too many mechs for the mines to deal with, however, and Ian feared that the minefield would be exhausted by the sheer numbers of enemy mechs.

The Lancer mechs fell back slowly, using combined fire to destroy the bigger enemy mechs, leaving the smaller mechs for the vehicles to engage. Drenner's elementals were coordinating with the _Harasser_ tank units, using them as quick taxis to scoot from one end of the battlefield to the other, especially to areas where the retreat was in danger of being overwhelmed.

A _Lemming_ lunged forward of its line, firing and missing with its array of medium lasers. Ian fired two PPCs at the enemy mech, shearing off one of its legs. He kept up the usual 4-4-3 pattern for firing his PPCs, laying down a steady barrage of particle blasts.

Time and again, the mass of black mechs charged their lines, only to be repelled or destroyed by the combined weapons fire of the Lancers and the Falcons. Meter by meter the humans retreated towards Galileo's Tower, resisting the urge to simply break and run. Such a move would have left their backs exposed to enemy fire, and the slower mechs would be run down by the swifter enemy mechs. Hours of grueling drills and combat training paid off, as the human warriors kept their nerve, if not their cool.

After ten minutes, they were finally approaching checkpoint Alpha, held by Frank's company. Ian resisted the urge to cheer but he could feel an immense pride at the way his people had performed in turning back odds of worse than ten to one. Frank's reinforcements would greatly ease their retreat back to the Doors, or at least Ian hoped they would.

That hope soon turned into despair, as Ian found a shadow passing over their mechs. A giant saucer hovered by above, opening its bays to let more black mechs jump down to join their fellows. At the height they were jumping, many of the non-jump capable black mechs were destroyed the moment they hit the ground, sending earthshaking tremors as they smashed into the ground, armor plates and structure flying everywhere.

More than enough survived the landing for Ian's comfort, and some even fired as they were coming down. Their shots were highly inaccurate, but to Ian, every piece of armor counted now.

"This is Bird One!" The aerospace fighters were supposed to keep the saucers away, but it was apparent they had failed their tasks. "The bad guys pulled more bogeys from space to keep us busy! We can't get a clear shot at the saucers! They are going for the Doors again! We're trying to take down the enemy fighters as fast as we can, but there's too many of them!"

Ian wanted to hit his viewscreen in frustration, but he clamped down. There was nothing he, or anyone else, could have done. Gripping his triggers tightly, he continued to cover their desperate flight back to possible safety.

_The machine intelligence calculated quickly. It lacked just enough fighters to achieve air superiority in both the space and atmospheric arenas, but as long as it managed to keep the space vessels from taking out its slow moving motherships while they are proceeding to the base, it would be a successful action._

_The sudden appearance of more fighters and mechs from the flesh beings who had opened the base had momentarily upset its predictions, but it had managed to recover the initiative by recalling more fighters from the space battle and sending the motherships, no longer threatened by the flesh beings, in a headlong charge at the base, dropping mechs all the while._

_It believed that by trapping the flesh beings outside the base, it would also force those already inside the base to keep the doors open longer, in order to wait for their embattled compatriots  to reach safety. If they decided to abandon the base to wholly support their comrades, all the better._

_Any moment now, its drones would be reaching the base. The machine intelligence prepared to send the assault command mechs into the hidden base once its defenders had been eliminated. These specially modified drones had larger than usual control networks, due to their purpose of overpowering the base's native AI defenses. They also had deployable smaller drones that could establish special links from the machine intelligence to the base's systems, enabling it access to its systems._

_After gaining control of the base, the machine intelligence would then be able to send a FTL message through hyperspace to its masters, for them to take possession of the prize._

Star Captain Descartin Winters kicked out with the left leg of his _Nova Cat_, crippling the one leg of a heavy _Smasher_, as he poured a full barrage of lasers into his opponent at the same time. The black mech burst into metal smithereens as he did so, peppering his own mech, but not doing any real damage.

_Just need a new paint job, _he thought. Assuming, of course, that he and his trusty mech survived the battle.__

The black mechs had landed right on top of the Warrior's positions from the saucer overhead, and Des was having a field day blasting them out of the skies before they even hit the ground. Two upgraded _Partisan _tanks that had accompanied them were proving their worth as they slapped one enemy mech after another out of the sky with their LB-X autocannon slugs.

Meanwhile, most of those that landed successfully had damaged legs, and every mechwarrior was now aiming for their opponents' weakened lower limbs, instead of trying to punch through their thicker torso armor.

The enemy saucers had flown over them, dropping black mechs all over the battlefield. Thankfully, their own aerospace jocks had managed to extricate themselves from their dogfights long enough to ensure that the furthest any saucer got to Galileo's Tower was Des' position. Two saucers had been destroyed, one exploding in air just as it flew by overhead. The combined merc and Goliath Scorpion force had scrambled to get away from the falling debris, while shooting at their enemies all the while.

While that had left the 5 kilometer stretch of land between them and the Door relatively safe, that still left huge numbers of the enemy between Des and the regrouped Lancer and Raider force that had hooked up with the Jade Falcons.

Descartin and Robert Feehan had conferred briefly before committing their troops to assist the retreating force. They hoped to ease the pressure on the line of retreat enough for Ian to punch through and link up. They would then proceed to the base with all their remaining forces. Nobody liked fighting a battle with interior lines, not even clansmen.

As he glanced around, Des was appalled at the amount of destruction wrought in such a short time. The field was littered with metal and polymer, burning husks of destroyed mechs and the scattered wreckage of aerospace fighters. Smoke hung heavy in the air, billowing from dozens of small fires among the grassy plains, and from the black mechs as well. It was not as bad as what he had seen on Tukayyid or Luthien, but it was getting close.

Yoshino's _Nobori-Nin_ paced alongside his _Nova Cat_, firing its large pulse lasers almost continuously, the storm of energy darts puncturing a _Lemming's_ armor in several places, dropping it to the ground.

Jean Posavatz's _Ryoken _had carried out a daring flanking maneuver that had placed her firmly behind the mass of black mechs currently blocking their way from relieving their friends. From her cries of delight over the comms, Des could hear that she was having great fun taking down mech after mech from the rear with her medium lasers.

_Fun is fun, but no need to sound like you are having sex, and do not broadcast it out if you do_, Des grumbled as he checked the distance now separating the two human forces.

_Two kilometers left._ He could even see bursts of light in the direction they were traveling, a sure sign that they were close to their goal. He grinned, and quickly opened a channel to Feehan.

"Warrior One, this is Scorpion One. Distance is now two klicks. Suggest we don't hold back anymore, and push our heat sinks to the max. The tanks will stay in place and cover the way back."

"Affirmative. Warriors and tankers, you heard the man. Let's get down to it."

Des heard several ayes over his headset, as he turned his full attention back to the battle. There were still more than ten black mechs in front of them, facing the seven mechs of the Warrior/Scorpion force, while another twenty tried to hold off the Lancer/Raider retreat.

Des opened up on two _Bruisers_ with his full array of weapons, splitting his PPC and laser fire between the two as he sought to take both out of the fight by aiming for their legs.

One _Bruiser_ went down as his PPC shot pierced through the leg, tearing past the bones and structure holding up the leg. The other remained standing, but only just, as it staggered to a halt, the leg actuators so badly damaged that it could no longer walk.

In return, Des' _Nova Cat_ was buffeted by gauss rifle, PPC, and laser fire. The heavy omnimech listed ton one side from the impact of the gauss slugs, and would have toppled without Des' sure hands on the controls.

Heat swarmed into his cockpit from every conceivable direction, as he paid the price for firing his entire arsenal in one go. He could swear he heard several seals in his cockpit go 'pop' with the soaring temperature. Sweat poured down his face, as he struggled to maintain his concentration on the fight.

The next few seconds found the Warriors blasting through the hole Des had created with the fall of one _Bruiser_, their unrestrained firepower destroying one enemy after another.

For his part, Des put down the other _Bruiser_, almost immobilized from the previous attack with his trio of medium pulse lasers, while he blasted away with one ER PPC at the next group of black mechs, now being slowly but surely sandwiched between the two forces.

He could see Frank's distinctive _Night Gyr_, as well as the few remaining splotches of green paint on the Falcon mechs a they staggered towards his position. Pushing his throttle forward, he charged forward, opening up with his guns again, throwing heat caution to the wind.

With every shot that he fired, Des could feel the heat in his sweltering cockpit jump up another notch. He could smell smoke from fried electrical circuits somewhere in the cockpit, and he could feel his sweat evaporating as soon as they exited his pores.

"Core temperature has reached 3400 Kelvins," the computer droned on as his heat gauge edged towards the red zone.

Des did not need to worry about ammunition in the present all-energy weapon configuration of the _Nova Cat_, but engine heat overload was still a danger. If the reactor ever got hot enough without shutting down, it was entirely possible that the alloys and ferro-materials generating the fields holding the fusion reaction in check might lose their properties, thereby unleashing the nuclear genie from its magnetic bottle.

A terrifying thought for any mechwarrior.

"Good to have you here!" Deserk called out as his _Black Hawk_ jumped up beside Des' _Nova Cat_. The enemy force had been shattered by a simultaneous attack from both directions, the black mechs not knowing which way to turn as several well placed shots penetrated their weak rear armor with ease. The effect was akin to the _quillar_ in a sandwich being squashed out by a firm squeeze.

"Raider Lead, this is Scorpion One. Let's get back ASAP!" Descartin suggested. "Leapfrog retreat! Warriors and Scorpions can hold a line centered on my position. All other units can pull back five hundred meters and form up another line. As we pull back, your people can cover us as we are scrambling back."

Another transmission arrived just as Des finished. "This is Nest One. All Nests have managed to get into the complex. We were lucky, getting just enough height on the corridor ceiling to squeeze the tops of the dropships through. We're in the complex now, and all search teams have halted for the time being to move back to the Door. Lorik and Pascal have found a small console near the entrance. They figure it's the door controls, and are trying to figure out how to use it. Bad news is, instructions are in alien script, so they might need a lot of time."

_Time that we have to buy them when the black mechs get to the Door_, Des realized. Swinging his mech's torso to the left as he tracked another group of enemies, he heard Frank's new orders.

"Everybody, get back to the Door." Frank's voice was almost unnaturally calm, impressive for someone thrown into the hot seat of commanding an entire regiment. "We need to hold the Door for as long as possible."

The _Battle's Bane _captain suddenly broke in with another transmission. "Guys, this is Nest One. Later, try to lead the bogeys to near grid 341986, and then give us a hoot. We've got a surprise waiting for them."

Des barely heard the last few words, as he locked onto the center torso of a _Smasher_ approaching his mech with his targeting computer. His lasers plunged into the enemy machine, coring it and setting off the fusion engine powering it. The mech disappeared in a bright flash of light, tumbling its fellows to the ground with the shockwave of the explosion.

The merc force worked their way back, able to devote their full firepower to holding off the enemy machines. Des lost count of the number of mechs he destroyed, as one after another black drone came at them, only to be taken apart by the massed fire of the mercs. It became a long monotonous slaughter to Descartin, and it was a struggle to stay alert.

The leapfrog retreat was highly successful; they had not lost a single mech since the Lancers had linked up with the Falcons. The Falcons were mostly assigned to provide fire support from the rear, where they could take advantage of their superior range without attracting any return fire.

Even so, after getting to just one and a half kilometers away from the Door, CLG had taken a serious toll on the human forces. They had lost almost five tanks, and all their mechs were suffering internal damage of some sort. The enemy still came on relentlessly, heedless of their losses, which would have shattered most Inner Sphere units.

To make things worse, the enemy had sent a whole mass of swift _Ants_ in a long flanking march that placed them right between the mercs and the Door. And it was not a few _Ants_; there were at least a hundred of them.

Des could hear Frank and Ian trying to get the other merc commanders who had not committed their forces to help, but the freebirth surat cowards were all holing up inside the base, unwilling to come out to support their fellow warriors.

He ground his teeth together as he turned on three _Ants_ at once, blasting through two of them with each of his PPCs, and setting the internals of the third ablaze with laser fire.

He saw all their available reserves charging the _Ants_, but they were already too damaged and low on ammunition to punch through. He quickly checked his map, looking for anything that might give them an advantage.

His eyes settled on the area occupied by the enemy _Ants_. Grid 341986. He grinned as he recalled the dropship message. He had no idea what the dropship people had planned, but it could only help their cause.

"Nest One, this is Scorpion One. There are a lot of enemies and no friendlies in designated grid. You can spring whatever you had planned." A series of clicks was the only reply, confirmation of the message.

Almost immediately, the air was filled with a wild howl, and a single large projectile appeared in the sky on long contrails, streaking towards the enemy positions. It landed right among the massed ranks of _Ants_, sending up tremendous explosions and wreathing the enemy mechs in orange flame and shrapnel.

It took Descartin a while before he managed to recall that _Fortress_ class dropships like the _Battle's Bane_ were also armed with a Long Tom artillery cannon for combat support. The clans rarely used artillery, so the clan warriors often neglected such details in trying to memorize the configuration of every machine produced by the Successor States.

Things changed on Tukayyid, where Des had tasted bitter defeat at the hands of the Com Guards' combined arms tactics. He had since learnt about the value of artillery as a force multiplier, and the basics of triangulation and spotting.

The _Battle's Bane_ had landed inside the base, and the height of the corridor must have restricted the fire angle of the Long Tom, and thus its range. Des also knew that a single artillery piece was insufficient to help them break through. No matter what, they still needed the reserve firepower of the other uncommitted mercs.

Over the comms, Des could hear Major Ian Dorlacen giving orders to the artillery gunners, telling them to 'walk' the fire towards the Door as much as possible, while Frank was also on the horn still trying to gather more help.

The battle continued to rage on, with the mercs still a kilometer away from safety. Fire from the _Battle's Bane_ continued to rain down on the _Ants_, devouring armor and destroying quite a number of the black mechs. Despite this, there were plenty of _Ants_ left to prevent them from reaching the Door, and to hold them off long enough for the bulk of the enemy forces to finally destroy them.

Des winced as another salvo of SRMs spent themselves on his mech, already lacking almost more than half of its armor. Protection was so sparse all over that the next PPC hit would penetrate into the internal structure, which did not bode well for Descartin at all.

As damaged as his _Nova Cat_ was, Ian Dorlacen's _Awesome_ was in an even worse condition. Coolant from busted heat sinks were streaming everywhere over the torso, while black smoke from engine hits belched from gaping rents. There was more armor on its back than on its front, and anyone who saw the mech would not had believed that it was still able to fight, much less hold the very center of the line.

Some _Ants_ even tried to force their way past the huge Door, but were cut down by the gathered mercs that had standing guard near the entrance. They were willing to take down any enemy that came near, but apparently not willing enough to help out their erstwhile comrades.

Another ten seconds passed before six aerospace fighters swept down from the sky, strafing the enemy horde before continuing into the huge corridor beyond the Door. Ruby walls of bright light filled the air for an instant, as the laser blasts cascaded like a waterfall onto the black mechs. Enemy machines crackled in the ravening hellfire from the skies as they died.

"This is Bird Lead!" The message crackled through. "We are outta fuel, and returning to base. Jennings and Danke bought it. Good luck!"

The next attack came in fast and furious, with numerous _Lemmings_ and _Smashers_ wading into point blank ranges before firing. The situation was getting critical.

Suddenly, a strident voice broke out. "Lieutenant Greaves, where are you going?"

"Helping our friends, since you seem to have forgotten exactly who's on our side." Almost immediately, a storm of metal fire erupted from near the Door, tearing apart an _Ant_ that was firing on Yoshino's _Nobori-Nin_. 

A _Dire Wolf _(correction, it should be _Daishi_, Descartin reminded himself for the umpteenth time) marched into view, bristling with weapons. It opened up with its entire load of weaponry, all 50 tons of some of the most awesome weapons devised by humanity. PPCs and large pulse lasers lashed out with their terrible energies, as the massive class 20 autocannon vomited a steady burst of shells, tearing into any _Ant_ that tried to close.

"Benny, you will be court-martialed for this! Leave them to their mistake!" A furious Captain Rasouf raged over the comms.

Paying his superior officer and current employer no heed, Benny continued to push his _Daishi_ into the midst of the _Ants_, causing them to scatter or be destroyed under his guns.

This left the mercs with one hell of an opportunity, one that nobody could have missed. Des could feel the others gaining a second wind from Benny Greaves' appearance, as they fought back with renewed vigor.

As they got to within 400 meters of the Door, near where Benny had made a stand, Frank finally gave the order everybody had been waiting for, either consciously or unconsciously.

"Everybody make a break for it!" He yelled as the _Night Gyr_ lurched into a sprint for the Door, followed closely by just about every remaining mech, vehicle, and elemental on the field.

A hail of fire greeted them as they ran towards the Door, the shots slipping between their ranks and hitting the pursuing enemy mechs behind them. Thunder LRMs arced out over their heads and slammed into the ground, launched by a lance of LRM carriers providing massed long range support. Amazingly, there was not a single instance of friendly fire.

As he  strode his mech near the Door, Des suddenly felt a sharp pain along his side as a lucky laser burst from a black mech hit his cockpit from the back. Metal shards ripped through his cooling vest, rupturing coolant tubes and proceeding to cut open his skin before being deflected away by his ribs. He was almost blinded by the pain for an instant, but he managed to keep the _Nova Cat_ moving forward.

He forced the pain away, as he tightened his grip on his control and targeting sticks. Looking in front, he could see that the troops inside the base had formed up in blocks, with discernable lanes for the battered survivors who had ventured outside to run through. As he lined up his own mech for a lane, he saw Kily's Gonzalez's _Wolfhound _stagger through one such lane into the safe area behind the fresh mercs. Further into the corridor, Des could see the bulky ovoid shapes of their dropships.

The blocks were throwing out a tremendous amount of firepower, repulsing the enemy from the Door as the last few Lancers dashed past. Des moved his _Nova Cat_ behind a group of entrenched _Brutus_ tanks, firing his PPCs and large pulse laser at extreme ranges as contribution to the tanks' laser and LRM fire. It did not take long for his mech to overheat, as many of his heat sinks had been destroyed.

While waiting for his mech to cool down, he paused to try to staunch the bleeding along his side. Grabbing a first aid box out of a compartment, he got a flask of blood clotting agents and proceeded to pour the substance on his wound, a stopgap measure to halt the flow of blood. He did not worry about any coolant seeping into his wounds because the type developed by the clans was non-toxic, unlike those used by the Inner Sphere. For this, Des was immensely grateful for such seemingly small improvements in mechwarrior technology. He was also beginning to feel lightheaded, a sign of severe blood loss.

As he looked around tiredly, he could see Lorik and Pascal Thome on top of a cherry picker on one side of the corridor, the machine's crane fully extended vertically to allow them access to what they were working on, a computer console. Apparently, it was the control station for the Door.

Marching his mech up to their elevated position, he could hear a furious argument going on, as the two pulled at various levers and bashed several buttons.

"No, it's this button! Not that lever!" Pascal gesticulated wildly as an SRM flew past his head, seemingly oblivious to his danger.

"It's this lever! I know it!" An equally agitated Lorik yelled back. "The alien word symbol above it denotes 'exit', from the records we have. It must be the control for the Door!"

"Then why hasn't the Door moved when you pulled it? There must be something else, or maybe it's not even this lever at all!"

Des turned his attention away from them long enough to see an awry LRM suddenly veer towards the cherry picker, straight at the elevated platform the two were standing on.

"Look out!" He shouted over his external speakers as he moved his mech in front of them to act as cover. He cursed as he realized he could not get there in time.

The two men scrambled around, shocked by Des' warning. In their haste, Pascal accidentally slammed yet another lever, and Lorik, overbalanced by his own movement, came down hard on several buttons on the panel. The missile missed them by inches, suddenly corkscrewing deeper into the tunnel.

The Door began to move, albeit slowly. The black mechs suddenly seemed to be overcome by desperation, as they surged towards the shrinking opening.

"Stay where you are!" Des yelled at Lorik and Pascal, sprawled on the control panel. He watched in awe at the sight of the huge Door sliding close, as the black mechs swarmed towards them like a horde of killer bees.

Everybody had entered the corridor by this point in time, and all attention was on the narrowing gap between the two halves of the Door. The firepower grew ever more concentrated, as there was no longer a need to spread their lasers and missiles.

With a resounding clang, the Door finally slammed shut, just as one last _Smasher_ managed to sneak past the opening. It fell in less than a second, torn apart by PPC and SRM fire. The explosions made a deafening din within the confined area of the corridor, and Des had to cover his ears for while before the ringing went away. He found himself sucking air greedily, as though he had just run a marathon. He leaned back into his seat, feeling a bit drowsy from the adrenaline withdrawal.

The various Jade Falcon and mercenary mechs seemed to slump in place as everybody realized the battle was over. Techs were running towards the huge war machines, as exhausted warriors opened their hatches and got out of their combat vehicles to receive aid and relief for their wounds and injuries.

Des did the same, and he almost lost his balance as he landed on the ground, weakened from heat exhaustion and blood loss. Almost immediately, a medtech came up with several medical kits and a few cans of cold beer, which Des gratefully accepted. He took off his torn coolant vest, shrugging it off with the help of the medtech.

The medtech then went to work on the wound in his side as he drowned a beer can in a single swallow. The coldness of the beer had an invigorating effect on him, refreshing him momentarily. He knew it would not last, and that the alcohol would soon make him feel even more tired, but he knew it was a trivial matter.

After his wound had been patched up, he walked across the corridor, now bustling with techs and medical personnel, to look for Frank and Ian. He hoped the Falcons would not make too much trouble for them.


	28. Of Mice, Men, And Machines

_Planck's Quantum Hole, Copernicus Caldera,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery,_

_14th March 3068_

"Go to hell, you bitch!" A furious Kety drew out his pistol and pointed it at Hamirah Rasouf just as Descartin arrived at the foot of Ian's _Awesome_, where many of the other commanders and warriors had gravitated to.

Before he could release his anger, his fellow Dragoons quickly pounced on him, grabbing away the slug thrower away from his fingers before he could fire it. They slammed him down onto the cold hard floor of the corridor, pinning him down as Frank quickly rushed over and knelt down beside Kety.

"Listen, I know you're mad at her, but let me handle this. All of us got out alive after all, right?" Frank whispered to Kety. The Dragoon calmed down, and stopped his thrashing, but his eyes continued to smolder. The others did not relax, however, and continued to press on him.

Frank got up, and glared at Hamirah. "You happy with yourself now?" He asked softly, but firmly. "We have more than twenty injured, and if Benny hadn't intervened when he did, we would all be dead. You have any idea what's at stake here, or are you too blinded by your hate for me?"

Hamirah did not even blink as she stared right back. Frank could feel her eyes boring into his as they pitted their wills against each other.

"You made a foolish decision." She said. "Why should I risk the lives of my men in an action meant to rescue our enemies, who might later turn on us?"

"Because we might need the extra firepower. Because there are times where enemies can become allies, even for a short while. The Falcons aren't stupid. They know what they're up against. These black mechs aren't choosing sides. They just want all of us dead!"

"So? We can handle them equally well without those parrots."

Frank shook his head. "You want me to spell it all out for you, huh? Ok, so here we are, relatively safe. But what about our jumpships? Our ticket offworld? How the heck are we going to get out if those bastards are still swarming outside? You want to open the Door now?"

"We can take them on our own…"

Frank was almost shouting now, exasperated at her stubbornness. "Did you miss what was going on out there just now? Some of the best warriors in known space barely survived getting chopped into pieces, and even together we almost got our asses burnt! There's no way in the whole goddamned Inner Sphere that we're going to have even a whisker of a chance of getting off this rock alive if we don't work together!" He paused, and inwardly regretted his loss of control, even for a short while. Getting angry would only exacerbate the situation.

Hamirah did not reply to his tirade, and simply walked off. She only took a few steps before Benny Greaves stepped in her way.

"Captain, you can't do this. We need to stick together, or we'll all be dead."

She looked at him and said softly, "You wanted to help them, right? I can understand what you did. For the duration of this campaign, you have command of the Rangers. I'm washing my hands of this matter. I do not wish to help that butcher over there, but I don't want to get us all killed either. Therefore, I will not fight, but I will not hold you back anymore either. I still expect you to return the Rangers to me in a satisfactory condition when this is over."

Benny nodded, and Hamirah went off into one of the dropships. Frank sighed, grateful that one solution had been found to their dilemma, and that Captain Rasouf was willing to let her men fight, though she was not prepared to do so herself.

Frank recalled the cold fear throughout his body during the fight. It got worse as the battle progressed, but he was able to shut off the part of him that wanted to cower in a cave, and more importantly to give orders without sounding afraid. After it was all over, it was all he could not to break down from the stress. And it all came out during his outburst at Captain Rasouf.

As he looked around to try to gather everybody together, including Kety who was busy massaging some blood back into his limbs after being sat on by three of his fellow Dragoons, Frank noticed that his arm was bleeding again. It had been injured when Star Captain Harga had tried to make mincemeat out of them several days back. Red stains could be seen spreading slowly through the tightly wound bandages around the arm. He had really overexerted himself for the last fight.

Frank grimaced. It was not so bad that he had to change the wrapping completely, but the wet cloth felt uncomfortable, even if there was little chance of infection.

An admiring whistle sounded through the corridor. Frank looked up to see one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen walking towards them, clad in a tight-fitting clan mechwarrior cooling vest that left little to the imagination and raised the blood pressure of every male nearby. Her hair, slick with sweat, whipped around her head, giving her face a blond halo around it. If she did not have a certain hostile intensity about her, she would have looked angelic.

_I have a fiancée already, I have a fiancée already_, Frank repeated the mantra like a prayer, trying to keep his own hormones in check. The others were practically ogling, while the women seemed irritated at the attention the clanswoman was receiving!

The woman, oblivious to the attention she was having, came up to them and said straight out, "I am Star Captain Daniela Mattlov of Clan Jade Falcon. I wish to speak to your Major Ian."

Frank saw Ian blink once, then quickly shake himself out of his stupor as he answered.

"I am Major Ian. Do you require any assistance? I have already ordered our techs to help you with the repairs. I know supplies are short, but…"

Daniela cut in, "That is not what I wanted to talk to you about." She took a deep breath before continuing. "Why did you even help us at all? You risked your mechs and lives to help us, knowing that we might later have to fight again. You are all money soldiers. Did you expect payment?"

Ian smiled. "No. We did not really expect any payment. But we aren't too stupid either. We have no idea how things might have gone if we had to fight off those black mechs ourselves. Frank over there," Ian gestured, and Frank gave an acknowledgement by nodding his head towards Daniela, "was the one who thought of it first. I'll be honest with you. We did it not because of our kindly bleeding hearts, but because we hoped to make a deal."

She frowned. "And what do you want?"

"In return for saving you, you will let us leave this place with our jumpships. That is, assuming we all survive through this mess. To sweeten the deal, we will let you have the rest of the data, as well as anything we might find here."

Instead of being happy with the bargain, Daniela seemed to get even more angry. "Then what about the dead on both sides? Did you think we will let you go that easily? And your own troops, do they not seek vengeance as well? I know that some of you would sooner stab us in our backs the moment we turn them. How can I trust you?"

"Would you rather take your chances out there? As for the matter of vengeance, well, after my time in the Chaos March, I don't care any more for such things."

Frank noticed a faraway look in Ian's eyes as he continued. "There're no eternal enemies in the world, nor eternal allies. The dead can't cry out for revenge, but the living do cry out for their lives." He shrugged. "I've been placed in more uncompromising circumstances than these before. I'm willing to work with you, right now, right here. What the others think is up to them. If they're smart, they'll agree with me. What about you?"

She bristled at the implied challenge. "Very well. We shall work with you, for now. When Galaxy Commander Danforth returns, things might change. In addition, I also want you to ensure that my warriors are not harassed in any way. This is all in addition to your promise of the data. Should you fail to deliver on these terms…" She paused, "What is that saying you freebirths use? Ah, yes. All bets are off."

"Well bargained and done." Ian stuck out his hand, which Daniela shook firmly. For a moment, Frank could swear something was going on as they looked at each other. A glimmer of mutual admiration, perhaps?

"Well, since that's settled, we had better get moving." Frank announced, breaking the reverie that had settled on the group. "Just let me patch up my own wounds first, and then we're off into the deep dark." He turned towards a nearby commtech. "Any luck getting transmissions outside?"

The woman answered, "Nope. We can't receive, and can't send either. Ditto for the dropships. Something in the walls around us is preventing signals from going through. Guess we might have to either open the doors…" she hastily continued on seeing Frank's dismayed expression, "or find something in this dump to transmit outside."

It did not take long for them to prepare for the exploration. The group consisted of several jeeps, enough small arms to wage a small 20th century war, as well as some mechs and battlearmor. Almost every unit in the corridor sent people, and the clans were no exception.

Frank found himself in the shotgun seat next to Des Winters as the clansman prepared to drive their jeep down the long corridor, leading the rest of the explorers. Deserk and Lorik clambered into the seats behind, normally meant for three people, but could now only seat two due to Lorik's bulk.

Lorik was startled as he realized that Des was the driver. "Frank, I do not think having Des as the driver is a good… Yeargh!" His last words was swept away when Des floored the pedals.

It did not take long for Frank to realize what Lorik meant, as Des tried to drive like a race car professional, but his control was simply not up to it. The jeep swerved from side to side, and it was worse every time they rounded a bend, with Des overcompensating on the steering. Frank was astounded that the best mechwarrior he had ever seen had such atrocious car-handling skills!

As Frank turned his head to look at the other two passengers, he noticed Lorik and Deserk's faces were turning a pale shade of green. He had to admit he was not feeling too good himself, the butterflies having run amuck in his stomach. They continued like this for two short kilometers, but that was enough to have Frank fearing for their lives.

As they came up to a wall, the jeep came to a screeching halt. Frank and the others had to brace themselves as Des jammed the brakes, heedless of his passengers' safety, going from over a hundred kilometers per hour to zero speed in less than two seconds.

Gripping the dashboard tightly as they finally ground to a stop, Frank disembarked shakily from the jeep, feeling weak in the knees.

"Star Captain Winters," Frank asked, "Have you ever gone for a driving course?"

"Actually, no." Des uttered as they waited for the rest of the force, who drove more conservatively, to catch up. "I just picked it up during the initial invasion. Hands on, you know, on my own, without any instruction!" He said proudly.

Frank heard Deserk mutter in a low tone, "And wrecked more than three cars in the process."

Des pointedly ignored the comment.

Frank and Lorik went on to examine the structure before them. The wall, which was about thirty by twenty meters, seemed to be made of the same ultra-hard material as the corridor, which was impossible to cut through, even with a dropship's fusion torch. Thankfully, there was an opening, large enough even for mechs to pass through. It seemed like a gate of some sort, akin to the gates permitting entry to castles of ancient Terra. There were several consoles and panels near the door, and with alien writings. From the looks of things, someone had already opened it before, but did not close it.

_Must have been the earlier exploration party sent during the days of the Star League,_ Frank thought. _But what happened to them? Why was there no reply whatsoever? _

He guessed they would soon find out, one way or the other.

The other jeeps and troops arrived in short order. Everybody got down, and it was not long before Ian and Frank had formed them up into several teams to enter in sequence. This was done to avoid having any significant portion of their warriors killed by hidden traps and the like.

Naturally, Frank got himself into the first team to enter, consisting of Descartin Winters, Kily Gonzalez, Patrice, Irina Federov from the Lancers, and Tina, who had insisted on accompanying her Seeker. Save for Tina, all of them were loaded for bear, armed with gyrojet rifles, armor piercing rounds, and various armaments, all geared towards dealing with armored targets like defensive turrets and the _Spidercrabs_.

As Irina peeked around one corner of the entrance, then moved into the doorway quickly to take up a position beside the brightly lit entrance, the others followed, their weapons in the ready position, their senses alert for any sign of danger.

"We are past the entrance, and are moving further in," Frank informed the others over a headset he had placed on his head. The area they were in reminded Frank of the reception area they had seen in the abandoned Star League base, but the shiny material and apparent newness of their surroundings made all the difference.

There were many doors and portals along the entire room, all marked with the same flowing alien script. There were also consoles and screens everywhere, along with alien script on the walls, and even a few pictures of strange beasts and familiar landscapes. The technology seemed highly advanced, and Frank was wary of what the devices might do.

Still, the whole place had a sense of calming serenity about it, and Frank was finding it difficult to maintain his alertness. The others were also visibly effected. Their stances slackened a bit, their gun-sights dropped a bit, and they all moved a trifle bit slower.

"Don't touch anything!" He warned, which also served to jerk them back to awareness. "Look around, and secure the area…"

"I have found something!" Tina cried out suddenly from a room adjoining the area Frank had already come to think of as the reception area. Everybody rushed into the room she was in, only to be confronted by a gruesome sight. Only Descartin had the presence of mind to guard the rear as they entered the room.

There were several skeletons clad in scientist lab coats and Star League Defense Force uniforms in various positions on the ground. Their weapons could be seen gleaming on the floor, just inches away from the hands. One skeleton was propped up against a wall on the left. The rest of the room was occupied by a strange gallery of bizarre shapes, and a whole mess of symbols below the shapes, which Frank was unable to make any sense of.

Even the most amateur soldier could have guessed what had happened to the explorer party. From the positions of the skeletons on the floor and the direction they were facing, Frank guessed that the entire group had been ambushed from the rear. Only the skeleton on the wall and one skeleton lying on its back near the doorway were different from the others.

They inched into the room, careful not to disturb the dead, or the items they had scattered. Frank spotted a datapad in the lap of the skeleton near the wall, and he walked over to it.

As he squatted down to get a closer look at the device, he noticed it looked as if the person had been writing something on it before he died.

_Something important perhaps?_ Frank thought.

He hesitated for a while, before deciding that the gains might outweigh the risks. Besides, what could possibly happen?

Des gave a roar when he saw Frank picking up the datapad and activating it. Mistaking it for a booby trap , he ran forward and clattered painfully into Frank, slapping away the datapad as he did so. The two warriors, already injured and exhausted from their battles, crashed to the ground, the datapad falling in between them to rest on one side, with the screen facing Frank.

"What gives?" Frank yelled out as he tried to get up, using his good arm to lever himself off. Then he noticed something.

There were some words on the liquid crystal display, and they fairly leapt out at Frank as he tried to clear his head.

It showed "Betrayed by Amaris".

_That_ shook Frank to full awareness immediately, as he scrambled to his feet, with Des right beside him.

"What are you doing? Get away from that thing, it might be dangerous!" Des protested as Frank picked up the datapad again. Des groaned and clutched his side, his wound acting up from the collision.

"Amaris again." Frank spoke softly in reply. "No, I suspect this is somebody's last message. A note from the dead." He pressed several keys on the pad, and began to read aloud to the others from the words on the screen. He was amazed that the datapad could still work after three centuries of disuse.

"This is Captain Julian Reyes. I am, or was, an officer of the Star League Defense Force, currently on detached duty on Area 51. Our mission here was to uncover any alien artifacts and bases on this world. Two hours ago, our scientists were able to unlock the gates sealing this base, and we entered the facility. Almost immediately, our forces outside were attacked by unknown enemies. We managed to shut the doors, but lost our communications with the outside as well."

"We went deeper into the base, hoping to find something that could help us. Our resident xenolinguist, Dr Andreas Tate, managed to decipher the readings and code signals on the panel near the entrance into the base proper, to let us in. She told us that there won't be any hostile forces inside the complex. I guess we took her words too liberally, because we really slacked off."

"After looking through the immediate area, Corporal Phillip Gaves said he had found something interesting, and we all gathered here in this room. We did not suspect a thing as he brought up the rear."

"The fucker opened fire on us, at our backs. Everyone was hit, and I got shot in both my legs. I played possum, closing my eyes while hearing that bastard Gaves rant on about how pleased his Lord Amaris would be at our find, and how the Star League would pay for its arrogance."

"Taking advantage of his inattentiveness, I took aim from my prone position on the floor with my needler pistol and shot him in the head. I crawled around, trying to check on the others, but it was too late. Much too late."

"I'm now the only one left alive, and from the looks of things, I'm about to join the others soon. Instead of waiting uselessly for my death, I will end my life right now, but not before I had this written down."

"Amaris is clearly a traitor to the Star League. First Lord Richard Cameron was foolish to trust him. I fear that the Star League would not last long after my death. Hopefully, the sacrifice of my people will not be in vain. Signed, Julian Reyes."

Frank looked up, to see not just his own party, but almost everybody in the exploration expedition, who had entered as he was reading. Daniela Mattlov had a stony look on her face, and all the clanners, and quite a few mercs, were tense with rage. Anger that Frank could feel himself. Anger towards the most hated man for the last 300 years, Stefan Amaris the Usurper. Anger that a new Golden Age for humanity, promised by the recovery of the alien base, was foiled through the treachery of Amaris.

_Three hundred years later, and we're still paying the price_. Frank sighed, switched off the datapad, and placed it into a small pouch by his side.

"Well, looks like our worst enemies are still ourselves." He remarked. "I think we can probably trust their xenolinguist, even if it's three hundred years later. Right now, let's split up, and look for anything that looks like a map of the place. Lorik," he asked the scientist, "you have some knowledge of their language, so you stick with me, and we'll try to figure this place out. The rest of you just look around. Report once you've found anything interesting, but try not to mess around too much. We'll gather back here in three hours time, and have our dinner in here. That okay?"

It did not take long for the entire group to disperse into their own cliques. Frank found himself in a group with Deserk, Descartin Winters, Ian Dorlacen, Daniela Mattlov, and their fellow warriors. While he was worried about possible conflicts between the various factions, he noticed that everybody were trying to be patient with one another, thus smoothing out a lot of differences. Daniela's subordinate Jedec was even smiling and talking calmly to Kily as the group moved down amiably to the furthest door away from the entrance they entered. The other mercs were examining the other rooms, but they were all dead ends so far.

Frank's group stopped at the doorway, and he asked Lorik, who was taking point, "Where exactly are we going?"

"The few signs I have been able to figure out indicates that a command center of some sort is situated in this direction. The words I have for signs pointing this way are 'network', 'center', and 'processing'. I cannot be sure, but I have a feeling this is the correct direction to take."

"Lead on." Frank bowed to Lorik dramatically, gesturing with one arm for Lorik to lead the way.

They stepped through the portal, only to be confronted by what seemed to be a central hub area, a circular room with three levels of doors, accessible through ramps on the side gradually leading up to each higher floor. The room was about seventy meters in diameter, while the ceiling was an incandescent plane of brilliant light filtering down into the chamber.

"To tell you the truth, I have no idea where to go next. We do not have a map of the place." Lorik looked stumped at the sheer amount of possible choices they have. Fortunately, somebody had come prepared.

Descartin took out a few glow sticks from his backpack, gave them several hard shakes, and bent them, snapping the glass tubes inside. The sticks instantly gave off a bright glow, the molecules excited by the energy given off by the chemical reaction shedding their excess energy via photon emission.

"Here, each one of you, take one of these." Des said as he handed out the sticks.

"Uh, we're not in the dark here. What's the use?" Frank asked.

Des did not reply. He mutely took out a small knife, and cut a small slit in the plastic cover of the stick. He held it over the floor, with the slit closest to the ground. A drop of bright fluid mixture formed on the slit opening, and succumbed to gravity, forming a bright splotch on the floor as it landed. Everyone went "Ahhh", as understanding dawned.

"We split up, and use the liquid to mark our steps. It might be even better if we trace out directions with the liquid on the floor to mark the direction back to this chamber, so that we can always come back if we feel lost. The light will last for eight hours, but we should be back here well before then. Don't look so surprised," Des grinned smugly, "Goliath Scorpion Seekers use this trick all the time. The benefits of having a varied education, quiaff?"

Deserk cuffed him gently on the head. "Sure your head is not suffering from excessive bruising during the battle? It's swell enough already."

"Try not to get any of the liquid on you. Phenol's a known carcinogen." Frank warned as they moved out.

_Warship _Blue Aerie_, System Transit,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

Star Commodore Valten Folkner seethed quietly as he observed through the viewscreen on the bridge the tattered remnants of his aerospace forces limping away from the planet. The two _Black-Lion_ class battlecruisers were almost crippled, and they had lost almost half of their dropships.

The _White Aerie_ had lost all its port side weapons, while the _Blue Aerie_ was scarcely better off, its armor completely gone on both sides. Valten had rolled the ship halfway through the battle to spread out the damage, but it had availed them little as they suffered blow after blow from the enemy ship, while inflicting little damage in return.

Near the end of the battle, some shots were finally seen impacting on the enemy ship's hull, but it was too little, too late. Their own fighters had ran out of fuel, and were in headlong retreat from the enemy ships, which seemed not to have any fuel problems. Valten guessed that the enemy fighter's poorer performance capabilities might be due to their larger fuel loads, which was largely neglected by human ship designers, who often supplied their fighters with just enough fuel to stay in a dogfight, which are normally no more than ten minutes long, based on information gleaned from centuries of air combat.

Who would have guessed that combat endurance would be so important? If not for the vastly greater numbers of the enemy, Valten was sure his forces would have been able to defeat them easily in an even odds battle.

_No use crying over that now_, Valten reminded himself. The loss of the fighters had convinced him that the battle could not be won today. He hated to leave just when they had finally broken through the enemy ship's shields, but without any idea of how strong its armor was, they could have lost both their Warships in a futile attempt to destroy it utterly.

No, better to disengage, then think about how to tackle the enemy. Valten was now sure he had the proper plan to defeat the enemy forces, but he needed time to repair his ships, his dropships, and his fighters. He needed time to rest his weary pilots, time to tend to the wounded, time to instill fresh morale into his beleaguered troops.

It was a relief that the enemy had not chosen to pursue them as they accelerated away from the planet. Defeat in such a case would have been inevitable.

Valten was also worried about the state of the forces left on the world, both mercenary and Falcon. The loss of contact with Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth was the most worrying. It also drove home the fact that they were no longer assured of victory. In fact, he privately thought they would be lucky to survive through this latest twist in their campaign.

He grimaced as his eyes ran over the butcher's list on his command display. Seventy fighters lost, and more than 30 pilot casualties. Eight dropships destroyed, two of them massive _Overlord-Cs_. Jump coils on the _White Aerie_ damaged, damaged docking collars on the _Blue Aerie_. Over two hundred crewmen dead on the dropships and warships. Yes, it had been a brutal battle.

They had been surprised this time, but he swore that the next one would be different. Much different.

_The machine intelligence would have cursed if it knew how, as victory eluded it with the shutting of the doors. It was certain that the flesh beings would not be able to withstand the onslaught of its forces. Instead it had suffered tremendous losses, with little to show for it._

_On the other hand, it had observed a certain solidarity between its enemies. The alliance and cooperation of the two sides had plain surprised it, for it had predicted that the force sent out from the door would attack the machines marked with the bright green avian._

_The new force had helped the besieged machines, helping to break free of the drone forces, and even to bring them into the Qlictorio base. This unexpected move had thrown all of the machine intelligence's calculations into doubt._

_Even now, there were groups of flesh beings all over the planet. Armed with aerospace supremacy, the machine intelligence was sending its drones and fighters after each and every one of them, after they had rearmed on the motherships. It predicted that the flesh beings inside the base would try to aid their comrades like most instances in the past. To help them, they would have to use an exit, which the machine intelligence would most assuredly be looking out for. It would try to overwhelm the assisting groups by sheer numbers, then penetrate into the base._

_As for its light cruiser, the ship had been heavily damaged by the flesh beings' own spaceships. Once its shields went down, its light armor could only endure an estimated two salvos from the opposing ships before succumbing. The enemy retreat due to lack of fighter cover had been calculated long in advance by the machine intelligence. This, at least, had proceeded mostly as predicted, though its forces did take severe losses and did not destroy either of the enemy capital ships. The machine intelligence kept the cruiser in orbit, to replenish its energy stores, its shields, and rearm the fighters. It also wanted the cruiser to provide orbital bombardment if such an opportunity presented itself._

_The odds heavily favored its victory. It was only a matter of time._

_Planck's Quantum Hole, Copernicus Caldera,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery,_

After two hours of trudging through corridor after corridor, Frank was almost ready to give up when they stumbled into a large room full of machinery. Consoles and screens were everywhere, as well as many machines and objects which they were unable to identify. All were shut down, and Frank had put finding a power switch as his first priority.

Nevertheless, like most of the rooms they had seen, there was a certain comprehensibility to the place; a desk here, a seat there. But equally, there was nothing to indicate that this room was anything special.

Frank poked here and there, trying to get something to work, just for once. He had a feeling of being a mouse inside an elaborate maze, where some higher power was observing and cataloging their actions.

He gestured to the others, and just as they were about to leave the room, all the lights on the consoles and displays suddenly lit up.

"What the heck?" Frank asked.


	29. Gifts From The Past

_Planck's Quantum Hole, Copernicus Caldera,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery,_

_14th March 3068_

Frank spun around to his left, his slung rifle sweeping around and rising up instinctively to his shoulder, the stock pressed against his cheek, the sighting scope placed right in front of his eyes, ready to shoot at any hostile enemies. He pivoted on his left leg, his right leg swinging around and forward as he went into a half-squat to steady his own aim and to present a smaller target profile. His instructors back at the OMTC would have been proud.

Problem was, there was nothing to shoot at in the room, but the flashing kaleidoscope of lights was definitely a sign of some importance. Frank held his aim for several long seconds, before he led the others back into the room, clutching their weapons warily.

Almost without warning, a large panel suddenly slid open. The spooked warriors pointed all their guns at the new opening, which turned out to be nothing than a flat piece of illuminated floor with a bright rainbow-colored field suffusing through the air directly above it.

_Don't panic, don't panic, _Frank reminded himself as he tried to calm his heartbeat down, thumping painfully against the armored vest he was wearing. He looked closely at the field, trying to discern its purpose.

"Teleportation field, or portal, or gateway, or whatever you want to call it," Lorik said as he walked over, shoving aside Bryan as he came up to the strange area. "The research notes mentioned that the aliens had some form of advanced transportation device that could curve local space-time in such a way that it allows practical teleportation. Doesn't work well for interstellar distances due to the energy cost in bending larger areas though. Anyway, there was a portable version they uncovered, and their notes described the field. I think this is one such device." The huge man shrugged. "I guess somebody wants us to go somewhere. We're being led by the nose."

"So, who wants to go first? I mean, what's the problem?" Kily asked as he started walking to the field, only to be pulled back by a concerned Lorik.

"Not so fast. For all we know, it might lead to a granite wall. You wouldn't like being stuck in stone somewhere, with rock material interspersed throughout your body, would you? I can assure you it's not fun." Lorik paid no heed to Kily's look of indignation.

"It feels like an ambush to me." Descartin commented as he examined the field. "Let us get the others first, then consider whether to follow up this lead."

Frank agreed wholeheartedly with the suggestion, and Bryan was sent back to the main hub area to guide the others to the room. It was not long before almost the entire expedition force was inside the spacious room, all of them staring at the field and trying to decide if they had the courage to step into the unknown.

Meanwhile, Frank kept a close eye on Kily, as the young warrior seemed to have lost the confidence he had several days ago, and was again projecting an air of desperation, of wanting to do _anything_. Frank reckoned that the last battle was probably the reason for Kily's regained nervousness. Frank was also worried that Kily would do something rash that might give them cause to regret.

"Why don't we try sending a transmitter through first? Maybe it could still transit from… wherever it ends up." Frank suggested.

"Good idea." Lorik waved at Yoshino. "Yoshino, give me your transmitter." As the samurai turned clan warrior removed his transmitter headset, Lorik and Frank went around cautioning everyone not to shoot unless absolutely necessary.

Yoshino handed his transmitter over to Lorik, who tinkered around with it for a while.

"What are you doing?" Frank queried.

"Fixing it up so that a signal will be sent continuously. You don't really expect to have someone from the other side speak into the device, quineg?"

"Eh, neg, I don't." Frank felt rather foolish for asking such a question.

It took only a few more minutes for Lorik to get the transmitter ready, while Pascal Thome and Denilson set up a dedicated receiver on a communications set.

Lorik did not waste any more time, as he confirmed the setups before sliding the transmitter into the field. There was no brilliant flash, no dematerialization, no gradual fading of the item. One moment it was there, the next it was gone.

"Anything?" Lorik asked Pascal, who was watching both the comms set display and the teleportation field.

"Nope, nada. _Nothing_." Pascal emphasized on the last word to show his frustration.

"Let's get on with this, okay?" Kily suddenly burst out. "All this sneaking and snooping around! Just for once, why can't we go ahead and _do_ without overanalyzing things to death? We've bad guys all over the place, and you guys are still worrying about this… this warp portal!" Kily had gotten the term completely wrong, but that was the least of Frank's problems right now. He started to walk towards Kily.

"I can't take this waiting around anymore! I don't care what you guys think, I'm going through!" With that, the young warrior dashed towards the teleportation field.

"Calm down! Kily!" Frank tried to step and stop Kily, but the other man had built up too much momentum, and he just plowed into Frank like a rugby player, who fell backwards and pushed the people behind him into the portal as well. The whole mass of people lost their collective balance, and Frank saw an irate Lorik shouting vehemently at Kily as they entered the shimmering field.

And then they were gone.

"What were you thinking?" Lorik demanded of Kily as the others looked around, seeking a way out of the huge chamber they had found themselves in. "Did you ever stop and _consider_ what might have happened? We could have ended up in a lava lake for all you know!" He flung his hands up, exasperated.

"Well, we did survive the trip." Kily said sheepishly.

"Argh!" Lorik almost lost it then, and it was all the other warriors could do to drag the huge elemental away to look at the various devices and consoles around the room before any permanent bodily harm was inflicted on poor Kily Gonzalez.

Deserk did not feel things were that bad, and Kily was right in one respect. They were wasting too much time thinking and talking, and not enough doing.

They had found the transmitter in perfect condition almost immediately on their arrival, in one of the alcoves they had appeared in. No luck getting through to the others though, either using the transmitter or even their own communicators.

As he looked around, Deserk felt that at least this new area seemed to hold out some better prospects than the previous rooms they had searched. There were even more gadgets and items around, as well as a lot more of the teleportation alcoves. The center of the room was occupied by a gigantic computer-like machine, with various screens and displays arrayed around it. Ian Dorlacen had hazarded a guess that it was a central command and control hub for the previous occupants of the base. The seats arrayed around the central structure further served to illustrate his point.

The central machine stretched up to a very tall ceiling, which Deserk estimated to be about two hundred meters high. He was struck by sheer size of the base, which not even the clans could have achieved.

There weren't that many of them stuck in the place, displaced by Kily's reckless action. Frank Meronac, himself, Descartin Winters, Yoshino Ihara, Lorik, Patrice, Kily, Ian Dorlacen, Viola Bauer and Pascal Thome looked high and low, trying to find a way out.

"Greetings." The word came out of nowhere, as Deserk jumped in fright, his gyrojet rifle swinging every which way as he tried to figure out its origin. He looked around, and saw the others doing the same, spooked by the sudden voice.

It spoke again. "Do not be alarmed. I am the digital sentience in charge of this base. My last instructions were to assist anyone who has managed to gain entry."

This time, Deserk could make out that the flat dull tone it used was also unmistakably female. He glanced at Frank, who whispered to him, "Digital sentience means it's a self-aware computer, I think. The wizards at NAIS have been trying to get one for ages, but no luck so far. Now let me or Lorik handle this."

"How did you manage to learn our language?" Lorik asked.

"From the psi transmission. One of the reasons for requiring such a complicated method of entry was to enable me to have a certain amount of information required for communication. I deduced the rest by observation of your speech here."

"What do you want from us?" Frank asked.

"I was instructed by my creators to impart to you the responsibility and importance of this base."

"Then who were these creators you speak of? Where are they now?"

"They were several advanced species that decided to pool their resources and science for the sake of progress. The closest approximation in your language to their name would be the Qlictorio Alliance. They were destroyed to the last by the enemy a long time ago."

"The enemy? Would that have anything to do with the black machines outside?"

"Yes. The black drones were left by the Dark Army to attempt to claim possession of this base, which contains all the acquired lore and knowledge of the Qlictorio, garnered over thousands of years of civilization."

"And when were they destroyed?" Ian spoke up.

"By your standards of time, about half a million years ago." Deserk's eyes nearly bugged out, as he tried to comprehend the time scales they were dealing with.

"Wait a minute. You said the drones were _left_ by the Dark Army. So where are they now?"

"I do not know. Our hyperspace scanners only detected their departure from this galaxy."

Deserk could see the others gulping as they swallowed the implications of that statement.

"So, uh, they might still be around, somewhere, right?" Frank asked.

"Affirmative. In fact, the AI in charge of the drones has just sent a transmission out of this system to its masters."

_This is getting better by the minute,_ Deserk thought sarcastically. "In other words, there might be a whole bunch of aliens which have already wiped out several species heading our way now."

"Yes, but I have no idea where they are, which makes it highly likely that you will have the time to prepare for their arrival."

_That's very reassuring,_ Deserk had no doubt the Inner Sphere would have been as glad if the Dragoons had revealed the imminent clan invasion back in 3049. Yeah, right.

"So what do we do now?" Somebody shouted out.

"You can access the information you will need from the consoles. The full assets of the base, including me, are at your disposal. I have already applied your Intergalactic System of Units to the database, so that it will make sense to your scientists."

"So what we know, you know as well?"

"Yes. But there are still some details that might not match up to what you know. You will have to reprogram the data yourself." The displaced voice then fell silent.

The mercs looked blankly at one another for several seconds before Frank took charge and sent them checking up on various aspects of the base using the consoles, which were now usable and had comprehensible English words on their screens. They looked at the history, technology, enemy specifications, inventory of the base, looking for information.

The displays they worked on were marvels of technology. They could be activated by touching the screen, or where a hologram was projected, the user could even point to a spot on the hologram to access a particular section of data or to zoom in on a picture.

Deserk found himself assigned to check up the star map of the surrounding space. He took one look at the overall map, presented to him in holographic form, cluttered in 3D with literally thousands of stars, without any reference as to the relative positions of the alien worlds and the present worlds of humanity, and quickly shut off the hologram.

He figured the AI had not managed to glean the information from the psi transmission, probably because all the volunteers were techs, not warriors who have to learn every detail of the Inner Sphere map for their exams.

_So how to reconcile the two together?_ Deserk tried to rummage through his brain for ideas. 

As he did so, he could not help but remember what his sibko instructor had told him during warrior training, after he had blown up the laboratory during a basic chemistry class.

"You better become a warrior, or a technician. If you ever become a scientist, ahhh…" That sound alone was more eloquent than words could ever be.

Well, he had to think like a scientist now, and it was not as hopeless as he had thought it would be. Deserk punched up an query on whether the aliens had anything in space able to act as detectors, of any sort, since the AI had mentioned sensors. He was gratified to find out that indeed they had hyperspace trackers set up on Einstein itself, which was able to detect hyperspace movement up to a quarter of length of the galaxy!

Now there was a snag. Did their hyperspace trackers detect K-F jumps as well? Were the two FTL processes even _similar_? Well, at least there was somebody he could ask.

He shouted, "Lorik, some help here!" The elemental walked over.

Deserk quickly explained the situation, and Lorik gave him a surprising answer.

"From I've seen so far, FTL travel is accomplished by transition to different planes, which are often higher in energy." Lorik started, "The transition from normal space, or from lower plane to higher plane, takes a lot of energy, and energy is also required to keep matter moving through the dimension as well. Imagine the planes as a series of concentric rings with different diameters."

"Different dimensional levels afford different FTL speeds. Now take the analogy of the concentric rings, and imagine going over each of the rings in exactly the same amount of time. Now which ring would give you the fastest speed?"

Deserk answered, "The ring with the widest diameter."

"Correct. The first few bands consists of FTL speeds from 1 to 2 times the speed of light. In stark contrast, the KF drive jump, which shoots the jumpship right across multiple plane boundaries in one shot to the plane where the speed is 63 million times the speed of light, is much more powerful! However, our storage systems are not up to the task of storing the energy required for traveling more than 15 seconds, but that is enough to traverse 30 LY. Experimental vessels like the Manassas were adapted for greater and more efficient energy production and storage systems, which allowed them to travel up to 40 LY. Oh, one drawback I have found mentioned in the alien database mentions that using the higher bands is the physical and mental stress that is inflicted on living beings, yet another manifestation of psi energy. I think, and Frank concurs, that this is the root cause for TDS. Most people have no problem with short terms of exposure, but extended effects are severe. Here's one more detail. Gravity creates mass shadows in the other planes, and these can be dangerous. Only matter is affected, however, and not energy waves. This is why HPG transmissions can be sent from heavy masses like planets."

"Skip all that nonsense. The answer to my question?" Deserk was getting tired of the lengthy lecture.

"K-F jump drives are almost the same as the ones the aliens use, and the process is identical! I have no doubt that the detectors would be able to pick up K-F track signatures."

Lorik added just before he went back to his own work, "Actually, I only just found out about this myself. So don't be too dismayed."

An idea came to Deserk. He glanced at his screen, and asked for all the hyperspace tracks detected by the machines, interposed with the alien worlds. The map appeared again, but this time he could see a definite large mass of lines spinward of Einstein. The alien homeworlds were about a thousand LY rimward and anti-spinward of Einstein, approximately at the 8 o'clock position when taking Einstein as the center.

The large mass of lines was almost certainly made by the numerous KF jumps of humanity, and the huge central blot could only be the Inner Sphere. Deserk could not help but notice that there were quite a few lines, lone tracks leading out from the central blot and from another smaller mass of lines about where the clan worlds are, leading out to beyond the detector's range.

In order to narrow down the stars connected by the lines to inhabited ones, Deserk limited the search down to stars that have had at least two hundred 30 or less light year jumps either to or from another system, as non-inhabited stars might have been the used as non-standard jump points for pirates and other military actions. The mass of lines was reduced greatly, and Deserk could already start to make out certain key worlds.

He started out from the fringe, using the bases captured by the clans in the Periphery during the first wave of the initial invasion as his first markers. Slowly he worked his way down, identifying the worlds in the Draconis Combine first. As the target state of the Nova Cats during the invasion, he had to learn and memorize the positions of all possible strike targets, which includes all the worlds under the Dragon banner. It was the same in the Dragoons, as House Kurita had been perceived as high probability opponents on Outreach before Jaime Wolf made his peace with Theodore Kurita.

The Draconis Rift served as a helpful landmark, and Deserk soon had Pesht and Luthien pegged down. He worked downwards along the Dieron Military District to Dieron itself.

From Dieron, Deserk identified Terra, and used that as the central coordinate origin zero-zero for the vertical and horizontal axis. Having memorized the location coordinates of Luthien and Outreach relative to Terra, he soon got the entire grid up according to standard Star League and Comstar cartographic standards.

From the grid, it wasn't difficult to see that the alien worlds were quite far away from humanity. They were grouped into a loose cluster of about forty worlds, the furthest of which was a whooping 3000 LY from Einstein.

Deserk decided to look around some more. He had basically accomplished his task of integrating the alien star map with their own, because Frank had suggested the idea of exploring the alien worlds and looking for survivors after this was over. Now to look around for interesting details.

He zoomed out from the close view of the alien worlds to a view of the entire area, and there were two blots of lines that immediately aroused his interest. One was situated two hundred LY spinward of the Kerensky Cluster, while another was situated a thousand LY spinward and rimward from the Taurian Concordat. These were supposed to be non-colonized areas.

_More alien worlds?_ Deserk pondered the possibilities. He decided to remove the restriction of at least a hundred jumps.

The resulting map showed that the two new areas _were_ linked to other human worlds, which quite preludes the chances of being alien worlds. Deserk frowned, because not even Wolfnet knew of these worlds.

He decided to zoom in and run through the jumps year by year, starting from the present time. He begun with the upper cluster of four worlds.

The upper mass of four worlds joined by the lines showed a steady link to the clan worlds, stopping only when Deserk went before 2805. As he went forward in time again, going by months, the first track leading to the new clump of worlds originated from Strana Mechty in May 2805.

More interesting was a jump track from the worlds every five years since 2805 to just outside the Outworlds Alliance.

_A split away faction_, Deserk guessed. Maybe even the long rumored Dark Caste homeworlds. In any case, he put that aside, and decided to check up on the other group of worlds.

Using the same method, he traced the jump movements from the stars there. He watched, perplexed as the mass of lines seemed to progress from a clump to two pincers, and then back to a smaller clump. No jump contact was made with any other worlds, not even the small Fiefdom of Randis that was its closest neighbor.

The pincers didn't make any sense, because colonization techniques often favored slow and steady expansion by pushing a front, rather than two pincers that seemed more and more to Deserk like flanking movements of an army.

_An army then, but attacking what? And by who? _He traced back in time, trying to find a year with a link to the Inner Sphere.

He found one link in March 2870, leading to and from a world somewhere near the border between the Capellan Confederation and the old Federated Suns. _That_ sparked some alarm bells in his head.

_Wasn't there a unit called Clinton's Cutthroats who disappeared from Fed Suns employ during that time?_ It was a frequent tale mentioned on holovids, documentaries, and merc circles. Wolfnet had even kept a file on it because of suspected links to the Not-Named Clan.

_The Not-Named Clan!_ The very thought and the implications of it struck him like a thunderbolt. He felt a chill go through his entire body.

_No, it can't be. By the Great Father, I can't believe it._ Deserk feverishly ran the dates backwards, tracing the lines from the lower clump of worlds. One long trail led to the Free Worlds League, where he assumed was where the Cutthroats had started their mercenary service.

Another track was traced from the Draconis Combine in 2825, on the worlds of Trondheim, Svelvik, Jarret, and Richmond. When Clan Nova Cat had been attacking the Draconis Combine, they had heard stories of the Minnesota Tribe, which Clan, Comstar, and Wolfnet analysts had pegged as possible Clan Wolverine survivors.

No doubt about it in Deserk's mind now. He traced the jumps from the Combine worlds to the clan homeworlds, to Circe in 2823, a year infamous in the memories of clansmen for the betrayal of Kerensky by the Not-Named Clan.

He sat down in his seat, shocked by his find. He sat there for a full minute, ingesting the results. _We came here to discover new technology left behind by the Star League, but so much has happened. The black mechs, the alien technology, evidence of alien life, and now, even the location of the Not-Named Clan. How much more is hidden on this world of secrets?_

Deserk got up from his seat, trying to control his shaking legs as he looked for Descartin Winters and Frank Meronac.

"Is there anything you need?" Descartin looked up as Deserk approached him.

Deserk was surprised he was able to remain calm as he spoke, "Aff. You should look at this. Frank, you come along as well. I want your perspective on this."

It did not take long for Deserk to show them his findings. He watched Descartin closely, afraid of the fanaticism common to most clansmen. Des stood calmly as he reviewed the data though, and Deserk could even see a slight smile on his face when the location of the Wolverines were revealed. Frank, not being a clansman, could not comprehend the magnitude of their discovery.

"So what's the big deal?" Frank asked. Deserk realized that as a spheroid, Frank had no idea of the significance of the discovery.

Descartin answered, "The big deal is that once the clans get a whiff of this, they will be on the Wolverines in no time. The Kentares Massacre would be nothing compared to the bloodshed sparked if the clans ever found out about the Wolverines."

Deserk was puzzled by Des' answer. "Uh, but I was expecting a somewhat more…"

"Violent reaction from me?" Des finished the sentence for him. "Neg, but I am not the brainwashed warrior typical of our kind. Like you, I have seen too much, felt too much, to accept things at face value."

He continued nonchalantly, "Did you know that one of the Cloud Cobra Cloisters possessed hidden records of the Wolverine affair, as well as the events which led to their Annihilation? The Dharma cloister, to be exact. I have gone through the records concerning this, and the ecKhan has even told me of the tyranny of Nicholas Kerensky during that time."

Deserk was flabbergasted to hear of Des speak so dismissively of the founder of the clans. Even after his time in the Dragoons, he still held a certain reverence for the Founder.

"I can't believe I'm hearing these from you." Deserk muttered.

"Nicholas was a tyrant. No doubt about it. No point in denying the past, quiaff? Anyway, I do not believe in seeking the destruction of the Wolverines either. Should they pay for the crimes of their ancestors? If so, then everyone of us, every lord of the Inner Sphere, every soldier who has an ancestor who has done an inglorious deed should be killed. But obviously, I do not see anyone, not even the Falcons, calling for the head of the Kuritas just because Jinjiro decided to slaughter millions on Kentares on a whim. So why are we being selective here?"

"You might be magnanimous enough to let this slide, but the others…"

"Oh shit!" Frank exclaimed. "We were so caught up in this that we've forgotten about the others!" He prepared to go through the portal that led back to the room they had came from, now marked out by a paper sign plastered by Kily over the alien symbols etched beside the portal. Kily had the unenviable task of mapping out the room and its many portals in English, assigned to him as light punishment.

Frank was stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder. He turned around to see Descartin gripping him.

"Not so fast," the clanner said. "We have to remove the evidence of the Wolverines first. Imagine what would happen if the Falcons caught wind of this."

Frank nodded his understanding, and they quickly set about installing protocols to prevent the jump tracks or the Wolverine worlds from being shown on the screen unless a certain pass-phrase was given, which only Frank, Descartin, and Deserk knew. Frank chose one phrase, which he was sure nobody would ever think of, "Colorless red ideas snore lazily".

The other group of worlds near the Kerensky cluster was also given the same treatment. Des was of the opinion that cooler heads should check it out first before making a decision whether to reveal the data to the clans. Deserk and Frank agreed easily.

Ten minutes later, they gathered to bring in the others. Frank got a short synopsis from each member of the party first, to vet the info and prevent any sensitive data like the Wolverine issue from being revealed. Thankfully, there were none that needed to be held secret.

But there was plenty to get excited about. The base contained manufacturing facilities, as well as a large stockpile of weapons and machines. More importantly for them right now, was a transit system in the planetary crust which could enable them to shift their forces rapidly to almost any point in the planet. Exit/entry points were located all over the world, and Frank was already forming a plan in his mind to retrieve the other merc commands.

"So who goes back first?" an excited Kily asked.

"Certainly not you." Lorik grunted. "And not me. I would be easily hit if some fool decides to start shooting. We need someone who doesn't look too threatening."

"So…" Frank trailed off as he realized what Lorik meant. "Not me again!"

Lorik grabbed Frank, and gave him a very strong push towards the portal. "Aff, you again."

"I'll get you for this…" Frank yelped as he stumbled into the portal.

It took a bit of fast talking, and some hard convincing before they got everybody into the central hub area. The other room where Daniela and the others were waiting in was actually supposed to be the military command center.

The central hub area could only be accessed by the teleporters located throughout the base. The teleporters themselves could be set to particular destinations, but the central hub area was physically inaccessible. In other words, there weren't any corridors or passageways to it.

The reason for that was more incredible than the mercs could ever imagine. The central hub area was located in what Lorik called a 'tesseract', a volume of artificial space. Frank's mind boggled at the level of technology required to achieve this.

There was even machines that could allow them to do what Lorik termed 'matter editation'. Frank had a simpler name for it, "The Philosopher's Stone".

There was so much data and information that Frank almost felt like drowning in them. There were advanced anti-tumor agents, automatic soil nitrogen fixers that would increase the yield of agricultural products by at least a hundred percent, energy storage methods that are far more efficient than their present ones, and even artificial gravity generators that could affect the gravity of an entire planet!

But none of that was helpful to them, _right now_.

The leaders scheduled a strategy session in two hours time, while the warriors tried to grab some rest as the technicians tried to fix up their mechs as best as they could. The collection and processing of data from the alien base was left in the hands of the dropship crews, under the watchful supervision of Lorik.

Frank, acting on his authority as overall commander, gave orders for the techs to concentrate on repairing Bryan's recon lance first, as well as the lighter and faster clan omnimechs, most importantly a _Koshi_ and a _Dragonfly_. The recon lance of the Arch Lancers were also given priority.

He then plopped down and slept on a makeshift cushion some considerate soul had laid out in the reception area near where the Star League party had been betrayed, which was serving as a de facto lounge and rest area. There simply wasn't any more personnel available to locate and set up proper barracks. Even the infantry had been roped in to help with the repairs, or with mapping out the entire base and plastering directional signs so that people won't get lost. The reception area was packed with sleeping warriors, who all knew that they would be going back into the breech very soon.

"One thing bothers me, Des," Deserk said as he prepared to take a quick nap beside a bunch of already snoring mercs from the Arch Lancers.

"What?" Descartin was also preparing to go to sleep, using his backpack as a makeshift pillow.

"Remember the, uh, strange thing we saw on the starmap?" Deserk was careful not to mention the Not-Named clan, lest a Falcon overheard him.

"Aff."

"Well, there was a pincer movement by, uh, the colonists, right? Don't you think that seemed like the movements of an invading army?"

"You have a point. But what were they attacking?"

They stared at each other for a few long seconds as they chewed on the information.

"Let's hope we live through this long enough to find out." Deserk concluded.


	30. Slaughterhouse Run

_Tartar Reaches,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

_14th March 3068_

The night image enhancement of the _Zeus_ HUD display gave the landscape an eerie greenish tinge, an unreal quality that almost made Fanny Goddard feel as if she was fighting in hell.

Not that it made any difference. She _was_ fighting in hell, such was the terror in her heart as she tried to extricate her lance out of the clutches of the unknown enemy.

The black mechs had attacked without warning. Oh sure, they have had advance warning from the Arch Lancers, but it was still a shock to see the whole mass of more than fifty black mechs descending upon them in the evening.

Fanny triggered her large pulse laser, sending a long stream of energy darts seeking through the air and lighting up her target area, punching small deep holes into the black mech. Having used the large pulse laser as a makeshift tracer, she followed up a ER PPC blast and a spread of LRMs. The particle beam cored the enemy mech, as the missiles plunged into the torso moments later, guided by her Artemis IV fire control system. The black mech exploded as its engine went critical, knocking down its compatriots on all sides, earning her a reprieve from the constant barrage of enemy fire.

Not for the first time, Fanny was glad she had spent the money from their last contract upgrading the mechs of her lance with the latest in technology instead of expanding her unit. Quality, not quantity, as one of her former commanding officers was fond of saying.

Her old _Zeus-6S_ had undergone a major overhaul on Outreach, modified according to her own specifications. The techs had outfitted the mech with the new light engines, changed out the large laser for a pulse version, swapped out the heat sinks for double strength freezers, and basically made a new machine out of the old walking wreck.

The deep roar of a rotary autocannon brought her attention back to the battle, as Phil's _Centurion_ tore apart another black mech that had tried to jump to their rear. At exactly the same instant, a series of laser blasts rocked her mech, gouging furrows in the arms of her _Zeus_.

She chided herself for not paying attention to their retreat. Mistakes like that are often what cost mechwarriors their lives. The battle had been going for almost an hour now, and the black mechs showed no sign of halting their pursuit.

The first few minutes of the battle had been marked by a desperate rearguard action as they tried to evacuate the support personnel and crew of the _Leopard_ dropship on any and all moving vehicles they could scrape up.

The _Leopard _had been destroyed several minutes ago, but not before taking a heavy toll on the enemy forces. The price in lives had been the four brave dropship gunners who had volunteered to hold the line for the others to pull the distance between them and the enemy mechs.

As she pulled her mech further back, she fervently hoped for a miracle that would save her unit.

_Planck's Quantum Hole, Copernicus Caldera,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

A miracle was in the works, but its chief architect was still unsure whether he could convince the others and pull it off. Frank Meronac had no illusions about his qualifications, or lack thereof, in the face of vastly more experienced mechwarriors.

The group leaders had all gathered in the command center, where techs had quickly set up communication interfaces and managed to get the consoles working. Holographic images of the entire planetary surface were projected, along with the positions of all the units currently on planet. Another holographic projection showed the relative positions of the jumpship and warship fleets with respect to the enemy warship and the planet Einstein itself.

Ian Dorlacen and Daniela Mattlov were staring hard at the system map, making small comments to each other as they tried to figure out the odds of one scheme after another by comparing the capabilities of the vessels involved on a sidebar, while Descartin Winters watched a couple of techs tag the units on the planetary map, his keen eyes catching every detail. Silver triangles for merc, bright emerald triangles for Falcon, black triangles for enemy ground forces, and black circles for the motherships.

From the looks of things, nobody was being spared from the massive assaults of the black mechs. The total count of black mechs on the planet came out to about 6000, the equivalent of fifty regiments, a figure equivalent to the amount of mechs the Com Guards put into the Battle of Tukayyid alone.

_And us with less than a Galaxy of clanners and about 6 regiments of mercs left._ _It took the clans 25 Galaxies to even come close to matching the Guards in combat strength!_ Frank was not at all optimistic about their odds.

There was a potential force equalizer though. The two Falcon _Black Lion_ class warships could conceivably bombard the black mechs from orbit with their naval guns. Only problem with that idea was the presence of the enemy warship, which had given the Falcons a good drubbing earlier on.

_So we have to take out the enemy warship, so that the Falcon warships can do their stuff. Easier said than done._ But Frank was sure he had something in the base which could even the odds.

Even better was the revelation of surface-to-orbit guns on the surface, but their major drawback was that the opening up of the huge anti-ship weapons would also enable the enemy mechs to infiltrate into the base.

So in order to keep the enemy mechs away from the gun openings, they would have to deploy ground forces to defend the areas. Which in turn would allow the planetary batteries to blast the enemy warship out of orbit, and hence enable the _White_ and _Blue Aerie_ to unleash their tremendous firepower at the enemy ground troops.

Frank massaged his temples, trying hard to think of an easier plan, but none was forthcoming.

"Here, take this. You look as if you could use a drink." Frank looked up to see Deserk holding two mugs of what seemed like coffee in his hands. One mug was being proffered to him.

Frank took the mug gratefully, as Deserk continued, "The strategy session's starting soon, everybody's here."

Frank nodded. "Okay, let's go."

Everybody was seated in a circle, with a single holographic projection in the middle. The current projection was of the location of forces on the planet.

Ian spoke first, breaking the ominous silence. "What are our objectives here?"

Daniela answered, "To defeat every single one of these black mechs?"

Descartin shook his head, "Neg. Our objective is to get off this planet alive, with the data we have managed to get here. Possession of this base would be nice, but I doubt you Falcons might be so willing to let the Spheroids have full control of it."

"One thing that is out of the question is to hole up in here." Lorik said. "According to the base records, the enemy warship type possesses a certain warhead that can initiate what the archives called a "Planetary Nova" reaction. Suffice to say, we do not want that to happen."

"But then why hasn't the enemy used it yet? Or even on the Warships?" Benny Greaves asked.

"Because it wants this place intact for its masters, wherever they might be." Frank answered. "But I would hazard a guess that if the enemy AI feels that it's chances have gone down the drain, it won't hesitate to blow everything up. And it didn't use them against the Falcons because maybe they weren't meant for anti-ship attacks."

They had gotten enough information from the base's AI to realize that they were also up against an artificial intelligence controlling the enemy forces.

"That is correct." The base AI, which some of the techs have dubbed Ally due to the acronym AI, suddenly interrupted. "Since this is a planning session, and as my existence is at stake, I have a right to involvement."

_Well, well, who told the AI about sentient rights anyway?_ Frank thought.

"So that means we have to destroy the enemy warship no matter what, correct?" Kety stated.

"Yup. It also presents us with a very difficult plan of action." Frank went on to outline his plan.

After his presentation, Ian spoke first, "I had pretty much the same idea, but the biggest problem is getting enough combat strength to hold the ground batteries. We don't have enough right now."

"We'll have to get the other mercs and Falcons into here. That'll also leave us with a very small window of opportunity. We have to make the enemy think that as long it has a chance of getting the base away from us, it would not deploy the planet killer missile."

"So how do we do that as well as getting everybody in here?"

"We send out five or six teams composed of the fastest mechs and vehicles we have. These teams would be in charge of informing the various commands of the locations of the entrances. They will have to either inform in person or by sending a laser pulse transmission, because the enemy will be able to intercept our messages."

"Ally, where are all the entrances?" Ian asked.

"Updating map." It replied. Red squares appeared on the map, scattered all over the landscape.

"These entrances have never been used, have they?" Frank asked.

"That is correct." The AI answered.

"So what we have to do is to get the other mercs into these holes. And the very first step is to get them the coordinates in the first place. That'll be up to Bryan and his fast movers."

"And after that?" Ian asked.

"At a certain predetermined time, which I have not decided yet, the units will wheel away from the enemy and proceed at max speed to the nearest entrance. Not simultaneously, but in waves, so that the black mechs might be fooled into chasing units that are about to reach safety."

"But once everybody's in here, the enemy might just want to forgo all this grief and blast us into vapor." Somebody argued.

Frank insisted. "That's why we need to maintain a presence outside, to act as bait. The message teams will have to stay alive while we try to fix up the mechs and tanks we have. Once we're ready, we'll go on the offensive."

"What if they just decide to start blasting away with their warship?" Descartin pointed out.

Rubbing his head tiredly, Frank admitted, "Then we're sunk. It hasn't done that so far, and let's hope that'll continue."

Kily Gonzalez stared up at his _Wolfhound_, currently patched up by a veritable army of techs. They had worked wonders in the last few hours, the _Wolfhound_ almost restored to full combat efficiency.

He wished he could say the same for himself. He had almost lost his nerve again during the last wild battle to rescue the Falcons. This time, it wasn't the fear of facing superior warriors in superior mechs, but the fear of being overwhelmed by never-ending swarms of enemies.

_They just kept on coming._

He remembered being panic stricken when both the arms of his mech had been blown off, leaving him with only two medium lasers to defend himself. Even without Frank's order to sprint for safety, he would have done so on his own.

He had gotten a good chewing out from Lorik, and then Bryan, his lance commander for what he did in the command center. Frank had understood, and had even taken him aside for a quick talk to reassure his fears, but that had no effect this time.

He just felt bad, and he could figure out why, which made it worse.

He was afraid of dying, afraid of failing, afraid of letting his lancemates down. He couldn't stop shivering whenever he thought of leaving the safe sanctuary of the base. From all accounts, it was hell outside, a hell made by the black mechs.

And they were going back to that hell.

"Kily!" He heard a shout from Bryan. "Stop dithering and prep your mech! We don't have much time!"

"Roger!" Kily shouted back, though his heart was not in it.

He climbed up a ladder to his mech cockpit. His cockpit had already been cleaned by the techs, all traces of his fear, especially the vomit after the battle, already removed from the small compartment. Somebody had even sprayed the cockpit with air freshener, leaving a cloyingly citric smell that was almost sickening.

Kily started up his mech, and his _Wolfhound_ was soon sprinting down a corridor, following the other members of his lance. The dread he felt refused to go away, not even after he saw the other mechs of his lance stride with confidence out of the repair bay.

_I can't run from this either. Frank said it best, everybody has to fight. But I don't want to die…_

"Hey, Kily, how are you feeling?" A voice suddenly came over his comms Kily recognized it as Deserk. "Are you afraid of battle?". He did not reply. 

"I could sense your fear from a mile away, and I know that even now, you are wrestling with your fear, thinking of abandoning the battle that is soon to be fought. Frank came to me with your problem, but by the time I was free to talk to you, you were already deployed."

His mech continued to move down the corridor to a transit point where a massive internal rail would move their lance to the designated exit point.

"Now let me tell you something. Within every warrior, there also exists a shard of fear. Nobody is immune from it, nobody can avoid feeling it. But fear is a good thing. It tells us when not to take unnecessary risks, when to be more cautious. What you feel is perfectly natural."

"What you should not do is to suppress that fear. By recognizing that fear and embracing it, your courage will be augmented by the knowledge of why you're being courageous. Your senses will be sharper, because all the time you will be alert to the dangers that may surround you."

Kily could already feel himself feeling better as he listened to the older and wiser mechwarriors. He allowed the fear to permeate throughout his body, instead of trying to pool and press it within his stomach. He felt a bit stronger as he did so.

"Feel better already? Godspeed and kick some ass for us!" Kily grinned as he heard Deserk cut off the transmission.

The Dragoon was right. Fear was something to be accepted, because it was useful to a warrior.

When they finally reached the transit point where an automated carriage was waiting for them, to transport them to near their exit point, Kily was actually eager for the coming battle. He checked the status of his _Wolfhound_'s lasers, ready to tear some black mechs into scrap.

As he watched the various small icons representing their message teams move around on the holographic map, Ian Dorlacen clenched and unclenched his fists methodically. He wished he was out there, even in one of those light mechs. He wished he was doing something, anything, rather than being stuck in the base doing nothing.

In the end, eight teams of three or four mechs and vehicles each had been deployed, two to each continent. Some of the Falcons had protested about their assignments, but Star Captain Daniela Mattlov had managed to force the issue through.

First out was the recon lance of the Raiders. Brevet Lieutenant Bryan was leading a lance consisting of his _Fenris_, a _Wolfhound_, a _Talon_ and a _Spider_.

Next was the Lancers' contribution. One _Raven_, a _Puma_ and a _Fire Falcon_ salvaged from the Falcons earlier on, led by Hong Guan De. A _Garm _that was normally part of the lance had been dropped due to its slower top speed, which was less than that of an _Ant_.

The Falcons had provided two units. One consisted of an _Uller_, a _Koshi_ and a _Dasher_. The second unit had a _Fenris_, one _Dragonfly_, and a _Puma_.

The fifth unit was a mixed force. One _Dragonfly_, one _Puma_ from the Falcons, and a _Wasp_ from Rasouf's Rangers, courtesy of Benny Greaves. The commander of this unit was Star Commander Helen, formerly of Trinary Gamma.

The sixth unit consisted of the three remaining _Regulators_ from Ian's battered tank company. They had been assigned to the flat areas, where their speed would not be hindered by terrain.

Likewise, the two lances of _Harassers_ from Harry's Harassers were also assigned to cover the plains, forming two units. The two remaining tank crews were left unhappily in the base to help with the repair of the other machines.

Ian sympathized with them, just as he wanted to be at the forefront of the battle.

He felt a light touch on his shoulder, and saw the beautiful face of Daniela Mattlov as he swiveled his chair around.

"It is not easy, quiaff? To wait here instead of fighting." She said softly as she took a nearby seat.

"Yeah. I think no commander will ever want to stand and just watch while his men are fighting, and possibly dying."

"I know. I have the same feelings every time my Star Colonel bids away my star and uses some other part of his command instead. Then I would do nothing but sit near the holotank, awaiting the latest updates on the battle." She shrugged. "I have become used to this. It is part of being clan."

"How then, do you endure this waiting?"

"You handpicked your people, quiaff? Trained them, and fought beside them?" She waited for his nod. "Then you should know their strengths and their abilities. Be confident in them, and be confident that you did the best you could to prepare them. Leave the rest in the hands of your warriors. Trust that they will fulfill their mission. I have no doubt we will win."

"We as in everybody, or just your Falcons?" He noted her shocked look, and quickly apologized.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to come off that strongly. I just want to know if you are happy to be on the same side as us filthy mercs."

"Not exactly happy, but not as disgusted as you might think either." She scoffed. "You have proven your courage and skill in our previous battles, and honorable warriors are never unwelcome. And we will need every warrior in the battle ahead."

"Well, I hope to survive long enough for our duel, or have you forgotten it already?"

"Neg. I remember, and I wish that you will uphold your end of our agreement as well." A smile returned to her face.

They sat there for a while in amicable silence, before Ian noticed a change on the map, as some of the red squares started blinking, indicating that they were about to opened.

"Look," He pointed out to Daniela, "the teams are deploying to the exterior."

_Tartar Reaches,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

After an incredible ride on the transit system, which had taken them just five minutes to traverse 600 kilometers, Bryan's lance marched out of the transport and into another short corridor. The tunnel was not as large as the one at the Door, but still wide enough to accommodate their mechs.

After a short distance, they came to a small door. Bryan's voice entered their cockpits.

"Alright guys, this is it. Once we're out there, we're in it all the way until Frank tells us otherwise. Our job, as you already know, is to get to as many units as possible and point them in the direction of safety using the plan. Each of you has a copy of the plan in your computer systems. You are to pass on the plan in a tightbeam transmission or by hand in a disk, if possible."

"I have no idea how long we'll be out there, but don't give up no matter the odds. Our mechs are faster than the enemy's, and we pack more guns. Stay calm, and rely on your speed to keep yourself safe." He paused.

"So everybody ready? Kily?"

"Check, ready to go." Kily had gained a wary confidence after the advice from Deserk.

"Lee?"

"Happy to go hunting." The former Capellan soldier growled.

"Patrice?"

"Just running with the pack, sir." It was an inside comment that only the Dragoons knew and understood. Kily could almost feel Bryan grinning, as he contacted the techs inside the main base to open the door at their location.

The door slid open smoothly, and they quickly stepped out into the moonlit night. The door closed behind them, as though the techs controlling it had no intention of leaving it open any longer than required.

Kily looked at his map, which was receiving a steady stream of data concerning the positions of the units they were looking for. The data came by way of a new communications set installed by the techs, which offered a much more powerful broad/narrow band signal reception and transmission than even the old _Ostscout_'s communications suite. From what Kily knew, the set actually came from a stockpile of alien devices in the base. Lorik had a bunch of techs modify them to make them compatible to human interface systems. Kily was very grateful for the extra edge it gave him.

They had not bothered to hide the scanning info from the base, because the enemy AI would also have such data available from its own scanners. What _should _be kept hidden from it were the locations of the entrances.

"Move out." The order finally came, as Bryan started his _Fenris_ sprinting into the distance towards the nearest friendly unit. Kily's _Wolfhound_ was next, followed by Lee's _Spider_, with Patrice's _Talon_ covering their rear.

After an hour of hard marching, they came across their first target unit, which was under strong pressure from the enemy as they sought to disengage. As Bryan and his lance approached, black mechs were already racing into position to intercept them, a strong force of more than ten mechs of assorted weight classes.

Bryan had no intention playing the game by their rules, however. He pushed the lance to the top of a nearby hill rise, and they proceeded to rain long range fire down onto the enemy machines, using their speed to maintain their distance. Lee, as the only member of the lance to lack long range weapons on his _Spider_, kept an eye out for flanking movements by enemy _Ant_s.

Kily did not hesitate as the enemy mechs came within range, firing off his ER large laser at a _Lemming_ that was quickly followed by a rapid follow up shot by Bryan with his ER PPC, both shots slamming into the middle of the mech one after the other. The _Lemming_ exploded almost instantly, as the undiminished energy of the particle blast devoured its fragile internal structure with ease.

Patrice's _Talon_ targeted an advancing _Smasher_, firing off her own ER PPC. The shot carved into the mech's left arm, hardly a fatal wound, but enough to open up the limb for a much more damaging attack.

The intrusion of the Raiders had drawn off some of the forces pressing the unit they were trying to reach, an unit called Goddard's Goliaths. As more enemy mechs veered off to deal with the fast moving Raiders, it gave Lee a chance to outflank the black mechs.

Meanwhile, Kily continued using his speed and range to inflict punishment on the black mechs without taking any return fire. Bryan pulled the others back, opening a gap between the black mechs chasing him and the black mechs pressing the Goliaths.

They were doing quite well so far, having destroyed five mechs. Lee's _Spider_ jumped its prodigious way towards the Goliaths, as he tried to get a clear shot at transmitting the retreat plan to a _Zeus_ that they had identified as the commander.

"Lieutenant Goddard! This is Lee from the Raiders! I'm going to transmit a tightbeam data package to you! It's very important, so _don't _put it out on broadband! You _don't_ know who might be listening! Transmitting now!"

"This is Fanny Goddard! What are you doing? Come back here and help us!"

"Sorry! Orders are for us to help you break off the pursuit only. You'll have to make your own way to the safe area!" There was a short pause.

"Okay, package received! I understand now." Goddard replied as Lee's _Spider_ jumped back up towards the rest of his lancemates. A determined application of firepower by the Goliaths had managed to shatter most of the heavy mechs pressing them, allowing them to start a headlong retreat away from the main enemy force.

Kily waited for Bryan's signal to start their own retreat, as he blasted another _Ant_ apart by triggering an ammunition explosion within the light drone.

"Start pulling back! We've finished our first assignment!" Bryan held his ground for a moment as he took the opportunity to finish off the _Smasher_ that Patrice had hurt earlier, before turning his _Fenris_ around to follow Kily's _Wolfhound_ that was already dashing away.

_One unit down, seven more to go._

_The machine intelligence made one calculation after another, but there were too many variables for it to determine whether the battle being fought was now a lost cause._

_That the flesh beings had gained possession of the base was not in doubt, but neither were its chances of wresting it away from them completely gone._

_Its forces on planet were all attacking the flesh beings, as it tried to lure those inside to come out to rescue their comrades._

_And it was succeeding. Eight small detachments had been detected leaving various points on the planet, heading towards their fellow flesh beings. The machine intelligence had already sent several drones to those locations to try to find a way past the doors, though it was sure that there would not be any._

_It concluded it would be better off pursuing a few units with the bulk of its forces. The units chased should not be so small that they would be crushed completely, but not so large that it would take too long to destroy them either. The drone programs did not leave much leeway for restraint._

_It made a logical guess that the flesh beings would be seeking to bring those outside into the safety of the underground facility. To do so, they would have to open up the entrances._

_And the machine intelligence intended to take full advantage of that._

_Planck's Quantum Hole, Copernicus Caldera,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

"What are the forces available to us now?" Frank asked a hectic Pascal Thome, with Des Winters and Deserk and some other mechwarriors behind him. The master tech was shouting loudly at a bunch of techs working on Daniela Mattlov's _Masakari_ when Frank had arrived on the scene with them in tow.

They had located a bay near the command center suitable for repairing all their mechs. It had taken quite a while, but repairs were proceeding at a brisk pace.

So far, about twenty units have converged into four larger groups of about a battalion each in size, composed of both merc and Falcon forces. Frank was adamant that they recover these units, which comprised a full twenty percent of all human forces on the world.

There was nowhere else for them to go. Some dropships had managed to elude the blockade by pushing their engines to the limit, joining Valten Folkner's scratch force in space. Unfortunately, they had also left their cargoes behind, the mercs or Falcons being transported having to fight for their lives on the ground. The rest of the dropships were destroyed on the ground.

Daniela Mattlov had managed to get into contact with Star Commodore Valten Folkner, and explained Frank's plan to him. Folkner had refused to consider it, however, and he wanted at least a Star Colonel to vet the plan before he would agree to it. Nevertheless, he had given them an update on the status of his own fleet, as well the one still stationed at the nadir jump point.

The battalion sized groups, one of which contained Lizabet Danforth's _Mad Cat_, were about to reach their designated entrances in thirty minutes time. Two of the groups were being chased by a huge number of enemy mechs. Frank wanted at least a company of mechs with some vehicles at two of the gates to provide some support as the units entered the tunnels.

"Forces available, eh?" Pascal wiped off some sweat from his brow. "Captain Winters, your personal tech says that your three mechs are up and ready to go. However, he also says that supplies are running short, what with your stuff being used to fix up the Falcons. Frank, we've only four mechs from the Raiders ready for action. Your _Night Gyr_'s still a mess. Add one more lance from the Lancers, and that's the most I can give you in mechs. None of the Falcons are ready for action yet."

"Just one company of mechs?" Frank had half-expected such an answer, but it was still disappointing to hear it.

"Add in the Sticklers, and you should have enough." Descartin Winters noted. The Sorrowful Sticklers were two companies of heavy and assault tanks that had sat out the rescue, with only their aerospace contingent taking part in the fight. They had finally thrown in with Frank's plan, after he had carefully explained the stakes.

Frank admitted that their _Alacorn Mk VI_ and _Manticore_ tanks would be very useful. The three gauss rifles on each _Alacorn _made them very intimidating opponents, even for mechs.

Frank turned to the warriors behind him, "Okay, send the order out to Major Soros to deploy his tanks, the _Alacorn _company to alpha entrance, and the _Manticore_ one to beta. Des, you accompany the _Alacorn_ unit, while Kety, you'll take the two lances from the Lancers and the Raiders to support the _Manticore_ company."

When he had finished, the warriors assigned quickly moved to obey his orders.

"You seem to have settled quite well into your role," commented Deserk.

Frank snorted, "Huh, it's all I can do to keep my head above water." He started moving to the nearest teleporter. He punched in the option for going to the command center, and the two warriors quickly stepped through.

They emerged amidst an almost quiet command center, where a few communications specialists were passing on information about enemy and friendly movements to the message teams. It was a stark contrast with the hustle and bustle of the repair bay.

Other than the comms personnel, only Ian and Daniela were in the room. They were talking softly to each other. Frank could see a grin on Deserk's face as they walked to another holotank. It took Frank a while before he figured it out.

He nearly kicked himself for not noticing it earlier. There was a definite spark between Ian and Daniela, and it was so obvious that even bystanders could have noticed it. Frank wondered if they knew it themselves.

_A mercenary commander and a Falcon bloodnamed warrior. Who would've thought?_ Frank didn't give their relationship much chance of a future, considering the problems involved. Anyway, there were more important issues to worry about.

_Like between you and Clarice?_ A voice spoke in his head. Frank ignored it, as he looked at the holotank.

He punched in several commands, and the map of the planet disappeared, to be replaced by a picture of a massive warship.

"What are you looking at?" Deserk asked.

"The enemy warship. What it can do, what it can't, and what we can do to destroy it."

"There's one thing I don't quite understand." Frank could hear concern in Deserk's voice.

"And what's that?" Frank looked up from the specifications of the enemy ship.

"If the Qlictorio aliens were so advanced, why did they get wiped out? Were this Dark Army so powerful, so implacable that they had no chance?"

Frank pursed his lips, thinking. Deserk was right. They had been so caught up in the campaign and with trying to understand the alien data that they had neglected this part.

The historical records Des Winters had uncovered had only shown the _how_, but not the _whys_. The records had stated that a massive fleet had appeared out of nowhere and started laying waste to their cities. Hordes of machines and terrifying warriors had descended on their worlds, capturing whole populations and uprooting entire industries. Nobody knew what happened to those captured, and nobody ever found out.

The Qlictorio Alliance fought back, but they were simply outmatched. Almost every battle fought was a defeat, every counterstrike an abysmal failure. Their technological standards were on par with the enemy forces, but they lost battles even when the forces were supposed to be equal. Heck, they even lost battles against the drones, when _the drones were the ones outnumbered_!

_Then why?_ Frank asked himself. _What are the other factors that determines the quality of an army?_ It did not take him long to realize the answer.

_Experience. Training. Command._ Acting on a hunch, Frank and Deserk checked the history of the Qlictorio Alliance. He was not surprised at all to find out that the last war fought by _any_ of the Alliance races was before they had even developed space travel. Or more accurately, in their equivalent of the Stone Age. And that was almost fifty thousand years before they were attacked by the Dark Army.

The few training manuals he managed to access from the databanks were almost laughable in intent and objective. There was little mention of a hierarchy of command, or standard battle tactics. Instead, the focus was placed on democratic command, individual decision making, and they even advocated diplomacy before starting an attack! Deserk was bawling madly with laughter and contempt as he read the articles.

_A liberal's wet dream._ Frank groaned. With such information, they had no problem pinpointing the problems that led to the demise of the Qlictorio Alliance. In a way, he was astounded that any civilization could have survived fifty thousand years without some manner of conflict.

In comparison, humanity has never had even a century of total peace. Even during the era of the Star League, there were hidden wars and other innuendo that could hardly be construed as peaceful activities.

But it was humanity's history of war that had given the mercenaries and the Falcons both the structures and mindset necessary to oppose the drones. Five thousand years of unending struggle had made humanity a hardy race in terms of psyche and organization.

Were the clans right then, to claim that war makes people strong? That conflict leads to progress? Frank refused to believe that war was a better state of affairs than peace.

"You really think that war was, and could be, our edge?" He asked Deserk.

"That seemed to be the only, and easiest explanation, right?"

Frank sighed. "Occam's Razor." He rolled his eyes. "I can't believe I'm advocating war as being good for humanity."

"But without the wars we have fought, without the stakes for us to fight over, would we have developed the spine to endure? From their records, whole populations just gave up as soon as they lost their defenders, or what passes for defenders in those times. Imagine the very same thing occurring on an Inner Sphere or even a clan world. What do you think would have happened?"

"Let me guess. Riots, guerilla attacks, frenzied civilians trying to maintain their freedom at all costs?"

"Bingo." The use of the slang by a clanner emphasized its meaning. "The Nova Cats suffered from such during the invasion. People like their freedoms, their way of life. Even in the Draconis Combine. Give me liberty or give me death, and all that."

"With the ISF? I find that hard to believe, actually, but the facts don't lie." The ISF, short for Internal Security Force, was the most feared intelligence and spying agency in the Inner Sphere, even going as far as to spy or carry out hit missions on their own citizens.

"That's your Fed Com prejudice talking."

"In any case, it's still early to say of our chances. These are only the drones, the lackeys. According to the records, the drones were the lowest of the low, the lousiest they had. Their good stuff, and some of it is really very good, are easily better than even clantech."

"Furthermore," Frank added, "We haven't even got past this hurdle yet. So I wouldn't be too confident."

"Hey Frank!" Denilson shouted from the entrance to the command center.

"Yeah?"

"I've found what you sent me to find. Star Commander Parrot and the aerojocks are also all waiting outside, per your instructions." Denilson flicked a thumb casually over his shoulder.

"My name is not Parrot!" A furious voice yelled out. Sounds of a short scuffle were heard before it ended abruptly.

Galietra Binneti was not the only Falcon pilot to be rescued from the ill-fated aerial battle. Four other Falcon pilots had been rescued as well. It had taken quite a lot of med-patches and a scolding from Daniela Mattlov before they had calmed down enough to listen to reason.

Frank grinned. "Alright, lead the way. Dee," he had gotten tired of calling the Dragoon by his full name, "Stay here and keep an eye on things. Tell Ian if anything happens." Deserk gave a wave as acknowledgement.

Frank and the pilots followed Denilson to another of the innumerous cargo bays located in the base. Denilson opened the cargo door, and they walked into a pitch-black room.

"Hey, who turned off the lights?" A merc shouted.

"Wait a minute, I'm finding the switch," Denilson shouted back. "Got it!"

As the lights came on, the pilots found themselves staring at a breathtaking scene.

Thirty gleaming fighters, obviously not of human origin, stared back at them.

Somebody whistled softly, "Oh baby, that's has gotta be one hot ride."

Galietra Binneti looked over at Frank. "You knew they were here, quiaff?"

Frank frowned, "The records indicated that they _might_ be here. The inventory records were not very well kept, which was why I had to send Denilson to confirm. Even Ally wasn't sure, because this cargo bay was of the few that were 'locked' to it."

The whole group had walked over to the fighters, all white in color. Each was vaguely the shape of a flying wing, but there were various weapons nacelles and protrusions from the fuselage. The armor material was made up of a close cousin to that of the base doors, an extremely hard material that they weren't able to get an equivalent name translation yet.

"Alright guys, listen up!" Frank slapped the surface of a nearby fighter to get their attention. The pilots were all drooling over the alien fighters, but they quickly gave him their undivided attention. Frank noted with distaste a small pool of saliva near the feet of one of the mercs.

"These are alien aerospace fighters, as you have all undoubtedly guessed by now! What you don't know are their capabilities. Yup, they're faster and more maneuverable than your old flying crates, but that's not all! They pack advanced weaponry, and they have shields!" _Damn, I sound like a salesman._

Murmurs arose at his words.

"Shields? As in energy shields to deflect hits?" Galietra asked. Everybody had already heard of the enemy warship which had thrashed the Falcon _Black Lions_.

Frank nodded. "The very same. According to the database, these are also equipped with very specially developed missiles capable of defeating the shield defenses of warships. The aliens developed them near the end of the war, but only got the chance to use them once before they were finally all wiped out. You guys can probably guess what I mean now."

Galietra proved again that he was no slouch by answering first. "You want us to pilot these fighters and take out the enemy warship with the missiles. But what about the interface? If these are for aliens, how are we humans going to fly them"

Frank had anticipated the question. "I'm getting the aerospace techs here, they will be working to change the internal configurations to suit human ergonomics. What you should do in the meantime, however, is to familiarize yourself with your new fighter systems. The data can be accessed in the command center, or any console in the base, for that matter."

Frank turned to walk away, then stopped, as he remembered something. "And oh, you guys have to choose a wing leader." He hurriedly walked out of the cargo bay before he could be involved in the inevitable fracas. Denilson took one look at the pilots, sensed the tension, and quickly dashed out the cargo bay as well.

"Okay, who's the boss?" Peggy Yeager, otherwise known as Bird Lead in the rescue mission, stared around challengingly, especially at Galietra Binneti.

Predictably, the filthy freebirths all pointed to her, "You're the boss," the spheroids said, while his own warriors stood behind him

Gal growled menacingly. "Why should you be the leader? I am better than you."

"Prove it." She stared at him.

He stared back angrily. "Fine. Would you be so gracious as to form a Circle of Equals? Let us use a Trial of Position to decide this!"

"Uh, pardon me for saying this," A pilot named Hank Cashew spoke up, "But we can't afford to have anyone incapacitated at this point."

"Then you do you suggest?" Gal turned furiously on Hank.

Hank quickly held up his hands in defense. "Uh, wouldn't a simple test of speed, reflexes, and endurance be sufficient?"

"Pray tell, what sort of test do you have in mind?" Peggy asked sweetly, but it was obvious she was not amused.

Hank thought hard for a moment, then it struck him.

"Aha!"

Twenty minutes later, Wing Commander Galietra Binneti was nursing his badly reddened palms as his warriors cheered his victory. Peggy Yeager yelped loudly as she plunged her bruised hands into a bucket of cold water a concerned pilot had brought for them. Another pilot ran off to get some ointment.

Hank's idea had been a game of 'slap the hands'…


	31. Aggregation

_Door Alpha, Planck's Quantum Hole,_

_Copernicus Caldera,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

_15th March 3068_

"Close up, close up!" Descartin Winters yelled at the lance of _Alacorn MK VI_ tanks behind him.

"Star Captain, ETA of retreating forces is five minutes! Door is opening in two!" A commtech from the command center told him through the strategic frequency in his neurohelmet.

"Aff." Des replied. He switched back to his tactical frequency. "Listen closely people, door is opening in about one minute. Remember the plan for you tankers is to sit tight and fire at any black mech. Do not fire if there's a chance of hitting a friendly. My mechs will act as mobile support, so do not worry about the enemy getting too close."

The door slid open, and Des moved his _Nova Cat_ out the door. Punching up his magnification, he could see a dust cloud in the distance, probably caused by the massed movement of mechs and vehicles.

Yoshino and Jean followed quickly in their omnimechs, while the tanks divided into their respective lances. One lance stayed in the tunnel in line formation, which still offered enough space for two vehicles or mechs to pass through on either side of the line. The other two lances of tanks moved to just outside the door, each lance covering a flank.

Des pushed his throttle forward, as he started tracking for enemies with his targeting computer. Two _Maultiers_ appeared first as he dragged his crosshairs over them. He continued tracking as the _Nova Cat_ surged forward, eating up the ground in giant strides. He did not need to check his displays to see that Yoshino's _Nobori-Nin_ and Jean's _Ryoken_ were right beside him, pacing his mech.

Des finally found an enemy mech, a _Lemming_, in his sights. He did not hesitate, his ER PPCs reaching out to the black mech's torso. The _Lemming_ rocked back as its forward armor was vaporized in an instant. The unabated energy of the particle beams continued to carve into the mech, as it sheared away the _Lemming_'s entire engine shielding. Deprived of the electrical signals to its limbs, the mech tumbled to the ground in an almost resigned manner.

The other black mechs did not falter in the chase, their weapons flashing as they fired upon the fleeing humans. Des saw a battered _Mad Cat_ torso twist and give a pursuing _Bruiser_ a good dose of energy from its PPC. The remnants of green paint on the clan omni, as well as the big Rho letter on the left leg, left no doubts in Des' mind as to the pilot of the _Mad Cat_.

Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth's voice came over the open channel. "Lieutenant Longley, put your mechs in overwatch and start firing those LRMs you have been hoarding! Captain Jacqueline, have your _Maxims_ ready at the entrance to start using your Thunder LRMs once all units are clear of the fire zone!"

Almost immediately, a terrifying roar erupted from a group of four mechs nearest to the entrance, as the other mechs and vehicles streamed past them. Massive amounts of smoke began to bellow from the area, as huge swarms of LRMs burst out of the smoke clouds, angling towards the black mechs.

Wreaths of explosions could be seen from the massed ranks of the enemy, and Des thought he saw LRMs that had missed the first line of mechs continue on to strike other mech in the rear.

_Swarm LRMs, very clever._ Des admitted to himself. Meanwhile, the four mechs started to backtrack slowly, enabling Des to see what they are. He guessed they were probably all LRM boats.

He was correct. An ubiquitous _Archer_, a _Longbow_, a _Yeoman_, and a _Viking_. A total of at least 150 LRM launchers. The missile boats continued to pour on the fire, as they covered the retreat with sustained volleys of LRMs. Des was strongly reminded of ancient 20th century videos he had seen in the Goliath Scorpion archives of missile carriers called MLRS lobbing waves of missiles at their enemies.

"Galaxy Commander!" He called out. "The entrance is open, now get your people into it ASAP!" It did not take a genius to figure out that she had assumed command of the scratch force. Elite and intelligent warriors always rose to command, whatever the circumstances.

"Who are you?" She challenged.

"Star Captain Descartin Winters of Clan Goliath Scorpion, at your service." He answered, while firing his long range weapons at a menacing _Smasher_. The heavy mech died as his deadly accuracy sent all his shots into the middle of the mech, into the exact same location. The excess energy burst out the back of the hapless _Smasher_ as it exploded.

"So, you have betrayed the clans and thrown in with the Inner Sphere, quiaff?" The _Mad_ _Cat_ turned towards the enemy mechs, and much to Des' surprise, unleashed a salvo of missiles that hit at more than 800 meters. Further than normal LRMs, and that only meant one thing.

ATMs.

Not the 'automated teller machines' that Yoshino Ihara was so fond of quoting whenever ATMs were mentioned, but rather the latest in missile technology developed by the Coyotes. Called "Advanced Tactical Missiles", they could use a variety of special ammunition types with different ranges and firepower.

Naturally, the Coyotes had tried to keep the ATMs to themselves as much as possible, but the fierce fighting for the former territory of the Smoke Jaguars, the Ghost Bears and the abjured Nova Cats in the past few years had enabled most other clans to obtain the technology for themselves.

Only the Scorpions, with their intense dislike for non-energy weapons, refrained from using ATMs, with the exception of some individual warriors. Des, who was once a member of the Nova Cats' sharp-shooting Alpha Galaxy, fitted in well with the Scorpions with their reliance on direct fire weapons.

Despite that, ATMs could actually outmatch the ultra-heavy autocannon for sheer damage, especially when using the High Explosive warhead ammunition. Having been on the receiving end of ATMs before, Des was fully appraised of their effectiveness.

"Neg." He answered Danforth. "It is an arrangement of convenience, nothing more. Besides, are you not working with Inner Sphere mercenaries yourself? You know if we do not cooperate, we will die separately. Now get your people into the entrance!"

"Aff. We are complying."

A group of _Maxim_ hovercraft zoomed past his advancing mech on gusts of air, taking up fire support positions near the _Alacorns_. Meanwhile, the obsidian horde had recovered from the shock of the LRM salvo, and were advancing quickly to press the frontline. Des tried to ease the pressure by sending his unit forward at the strongest section of the enemy drive, where three _Bruisers_ were advancing in step with five _Smashers_, one of them a twin gauss rifle equipped monstrosity.

It fired at Des as he approached within range, one gauss slug crushing armor plates on his left leg, the other just missing his left arm by inches. Des replied with a withering burst of laser and PPC fire, going internal on the _Bruiser_ and inflicting some engine damage, but failed to put it down.

Yoshino was able to disable one _Smasher_ with a lucky shot to its head, removing it's sensors and rendering it blind. The mech stumbled around haphazardly, unable to determine the positions of the units around it.

Jean Posavatz closed in daringly in her _Ryoken_, drawing fire away from the retreating forces as the black mechs tried to hit her in vain. With her mech kept at its full running speed, she unleashed a burst of heavy autocannon and laser fire that cut down another of the advancing _Bruisers_.

The LRM lance tracked back slowly, hampered by the slow _Viking_. Des estimated another twenty seconds before they were able to break away under the protective umbrella of the _Alacorns_ and _Maxims_.

He fired again at the gauss-equipped _Bruiser_, just as it fired its own magnetic accelerators at the same time. Des managed to puncture completely through the soft internal structure of the mech and destroy the mech's engine, but not before it had put its nickel iron slugs into the _Nova Cat_'s torso, shattering almost two tons worth of valuable armor.

Two stars of Falcons limped into the entrance, as a steady stream of human vehicles and mechs continued to form up outside the door. To Des' experienced eye, unless something disastrous occurred, the mission was almost accomplished, due in no small part to Lizabet Danforth's superb reorganization on the fly.

The next exchange of weapons fire left three more _Smashers_ in broken ruins, as Des concentrated on blunting the main thrust of the enemy advance. The other black mechs were being handled ably by the sporadic long range fire of some clan mechs that had wandered to the limits of their effective ranges, eager to claim some measure of glory in this debacle of a campaign.

It was a few more moments before the missile boats could break off and run for the entrance. The _Alacorns_ begun to cut loose with their gauss rifles; the air was suddenly filled with the 'whoosh' sound of the ferromagnetic slugs as they were flung at the black mechs. The _Maxims_ started to pour out LRM fire, littering the area with Thunder munitions.

The black mechs seemed to realize that their enemies were slipping away from them. They quickly picked up their pace, and before Des knew it, they were all charging hard at the entrance.

Unfazed, he waited for the Thunder mines to do their job on the mechs before firing at the legs of the black mechs. He was more than a bit surprised when some of the enemy mechs were suddenly bathed in hot plasma gel. Evidently, the Thunder rounds used were not just the plain vanilla flavor.

The increased heat levels proved fatal to many of the black mechs, as their ammunition stores cooked off under the intense temperatures caused by their own attacks and the Thunder inferno rounds.

The area around the entrance was shrouded in deep black smoke from the fires caused by the inferno rounds, while the burning carcasses of more black mechs were scattered on the ground. Most of the retreating battalion had already entered the tunnel, leaving only Descartin's unit, the two lances of _Alacorns_, and nine _Maxims_.

He ordered the _Maxims_ to start pulling back into the tunnel, while the _Alacorns_ kept up their gauss barrage. He could see the enemy units trying to break through the heavy minefield cordon around the entrance, but the heavy firepower of the defending units was making that highly unlikely.

"This is Captain Jacqueline! My company is through!"

"Aff! Major Soros, get your _Alacorns_ into the tunnel." Descartin pushed his throttle all the way to the back, as he began a retrograde movement back into the doors. "Captain Jacqueline, continue your LRM barrage. All units, brace yourselves in case the enemy rushes the entrance!"

He need not have worried. The next twenty seconds passed by in relative ease as the _Alacorns_ moved into the tunnel, as more LRMs streaked over their heads to plunge into the ground right in front of Des' unit, which were only one hundred meters away from the entrance.

"Okay, let us go!" He informed Yoshino and Jean. The three mechs quickly turned and charged into the tunnel, as Des called out an order on the strategic frequency.

"This is Star Captain Winters, close the door!" He shouted just as his _Nova Cat_ ran into the tunnel. 

"Got it, sir," The reply came quickly as the heavily armored door closed easily, leaving the frustrated black mechs just short of their objective.

_Planck's Quantum Hole, Copernicus Caldera,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

Frank stared hard at the holographic screen, as it showed the progress of the various message teams on the four continents.

It had been four hours since the first team went out, and more than half of the people outside had already been informed of their escape routes. The plan was proceeding much as they had hoped, and the alien AI was being habitually fooled by the movements and purposeful lures set up by the message teams.

There had been six scares so far, when a message team had almost been trapped by enveloping black mechs. They had managed to fight their way out in every instance, but only just. Frank was worried that their luck was going to run out sooner than later.

Des Winters and Kety had just succeeded in covering the retreats of the groups entering the doors. Added to the other two groups whose retreats had not been contested, the human beings in the base had more than doubled their strength.

Two more cargo bays had been opened up as repair bays. Supplies for repairs were going to be a problem though, and Frank hoped there would be sufficient mobile field bases and supply trucks amongst the incoming groups to reequip the mechs and vehicles.

He had asked Lorik about bringing the base's own manufacturing facilities online to produce the desperately needed supplies, but the scientist had told him that they did not have the time nor personnel to prepare the production lines. Even the matter editation machines needed a template to follow, and Lorik was wary of using technology they barely understood.

That left only what they already had with them to repair the newcomers. And it wasn't much. Their only source of clan weapons and clan quality ferro-fibrous armor, for example, was the _Bleeding Past_.

"They're coming in, sir!" A commtech informed the command center. The 'they' were the four battalions of Falcons and mercenaries rescued.

"Come on, let's go," Frank said to Deserk, Ian and Daniela as they got up and went into a nearby teleporter.

They emerged into one of the many corridors in the huge base, where a few techs were fixing up hasty directional signs on makeshift placards. The faint shaking of the ground indicated the imminent arrival of the arriving forces.

Descartin Winters' _Nova Cat _led them in, a bedraggled line of damaged mechs and smoking vehicles. There were a few bright points for Frank to take note of, however, not least of which was the presence of four MFBs that had survived the retreat. Two belonged to the clans, while the other two belonged to the mercs. He hoped that this would alleviate their supply situation.

Frank waited patiently as the mechs were directed to their parking lots in the repair bay. He could see that casualties were not as bad as feared, and that much of the technical support staff of the mercs and Falcons had survived. From some of the techs' comments, many of the mercenaries taken as bondsmen by the Falcons had survived as well.

Descartin Winters was the first to get down from his mech, slipping down a ladder a tech had placed beside the _Nova Cat_. He quickly joined Frank, who was waiting by the side of a _Mad Cat_, which Daniela had identified as belonging to Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth.

It did not take long for a middle-aged woman to step out of the bullet-nosed cockpit and jump lightly to the ground. Her strong build and powerful aura of presence left Frank with no doubt that this was the Jade Falcon commander.

"Welcome, Galaxy Commander." Frank knew better than to offer his hand in greeting. He just plastered a smile on his face, hoping that he didn't look too stupid to the Jade Falcon officer. "I am Frank Meronac, temporarily in command of this base here. We have much to discuss."

The woman didn't speak. She looked around their group before recognizing Daniela Mattlov.

"Star Captain Mattlov, what is going on?"

Frank knew he should feel insulted, but he understood the need to see a friendly face. He stepped aside to let Daniela talk to her superior.

Mattlov explained the situation in short order, and as more mercenary commanders left their vehicles and mechs to gather around them, the newcomers got a piece of the story so far as well.

"So I was forced to ally with these freebirths for sheer survival. We made a plan to get as many warriors as possible into the safety of this base in preparation for our eventual counterattack. I am willing to serve surkai if you feel I have dishonored our clan in any way by my actions." Daniela ended with a resolute grimace on her face, as though preparing to be punished.

Lizabet Danforth sighed, "Surkai? For what reason? You did what you thought was best, not just for your warriors but your clan as well. There is no shame, or dishonor in accepting aid in such circumstances. The only shame there is, is my willful negligence that has led us all to this state."

"Excuse me, Galaxy Commander, but there was nothing you could have done." Frank interjected. "Nobody had any idea what to expect, least of all you. Let's forget about what could have, should have, and concentrate on getting out of this alive, huh?"

Danforth narrowed her eyes, "You are vulgar, but your words contain truth. What do you suggest?"

"Priority is to get our machines fixed up, and rearmed. Once we have enough strength to guard the naval guns, we'll start our attack. But we need you to convince the Star Commodore to commit his warships, because we must have your warships in position to threaten the enemy ground troops, or else the enemy ship might just drift out of range and laugh at our naval cannons."

"Very well then. I shall speak to Valten Folkner on this."

A loud sound, followed by a vehement curse, suddenly drew their attention.

"You skugg!" Frank turned around to see a mechwarriors in a dirty cooling vest kicking a tech to the floor. The man had an unkempt look about him, and Frank swore he could see a bunch of flies around the man's head. He noticed some of the other warriors were smiling, though he did not see the humor in the scene before them.

"What do you skugging mean?" He roared. "When you skugging said my skugging mech would be repaired skugging last?" The mechwarrior produced a small holdout in his right hand from his vest.

To Frank, the situation was no longer amusing, and had turned deadly. He stepped forward to stop the man, but he realized Ian Dorlacen had already grasped the man's arm in a firm grip. _How did he move so fast?_ Frank thought.

"Stop now," Ian said in a tone that was tinged with anger, "let him go."

"Skugg you!" The man replied as he drew out a knife with his left hand and slashed viciously at Ian with the blade.

Ian stepped in closer, and his other hand snaked out to block the hand with the knife. He brought his right knee up in the same instant, slamming it into the man's gut. The man bent doubled over by the force of the blow. Ian did not hesitate as he disarmed the man of his weapons by twisting his wrists and exerting force on them. The man dropped the gun and the knife to the floor, and Ian finished up by shoving the man towards the main group of warriors. The man crumpled to the ground in front of them.

Ian spun around slowly, staring into the eyes of every mercenary and Falcon warrior in the room, who had stopped whatever they were doing to watch the fight. "I hope that everyone understands the importance of the situation. I don't want any prima donnas thinking with their gonads instead of their heads."

Ian stabbed a finger at his downed opponent, "I know many of you are out of work, down and out warriors just trying to seek a fortune, but this is no way to treat people who are only trying to help." He pointed back at the tech, who was now standing unsteadily, supported by two of his co-workers.

"Frank," Frank saw Ian speaking to him now, "one thing you have to know is that not all the mercs on this journey are as honorable as Wolf Dragoons. They hang out in Temptown, or Galatea, taking up contracts that often amount to little more than piracy. I don't blame them, but their attitudes will need a great deal of adjustment here. We all hang together, or we hang separately." That last statement was directed to everyone.

Frank thought he understood, and nodded his head. Now that Ian had mentioned it, he did indeed see that many of the warriors in the merc units had no pride in their bearing. Their clothes were tattered, and many of the men had not shaved, while a lot of the women looked like cheap hookers in their uniforms, or more accurately, lack of such. They stood in stark contrast to the Falcons, whose uniforms still looked clean despite the battle.

He clapped his hands once. "People, we're wasting time here! Get to work!"

The bay became a thronging mess of people rushing around as they got back to their tasks. Frank heard Descartin Winters calling it organized chaos.

The group of leaders Frank had already denoted in his mind as the 'command team' followed him to the command center.

"I think you have made a mistake." Lizabet Danforth said as she reviewed the data.

"Huh?" Frank looked up, puzzled by her words.

"Your estimates of the forces required to hold and defend the surface-to-orbit cannons. You have made a mistake there. We can actually carry out our plan before bringing in all the available forces."

"How so?" Frank asked.

"Your estimates of the forces required are in turn based on the enemy force strength. You failed to take into account enemy losses in the past few hours, as well as the enemy forces that might still be tied up chasing the other units around the planet. When all these are taken into account, we will only need about three more battalions or their equivalents to start our counteroffensive."

Frank slapped his forehead. "Argh, you're right! We've completely forgotten about possible enemy losses."

"But having more units is always a good idea." Ian countered.

"Not really." Des said. "We are also working against time here. If we can destroy the enemy warship sooner, that also means that this conflict will also be over faster, and remove the threat of the planet killer over our heads."

"We still need time to fix up our units." Daniela reminded everyone.

Frank provided the timetable for the repairs. "Pascal tells me that with the extra manpower from the dropship crews, he will have a full regiment ready to go in two hours, and another in three. Many of the mechs won't be fully fixed, but he assures me that they'll be able to do the job. The revised estimates call for 10 battalions, one for each orbital cannon site, or at least the ones we're using, instead of the 20 battalions we originally estimated. Factor in clan tech and the alien fighters Star Commander Galietra Binneti and the flyboys are working on, and we should have a good chance of victory in about six hours."

Galietra Binneti had managed to dig up several flight simulators from a dropship, and had a tech download the specs for the new fighters in order for his pilots to get used to the new capabilities. In addition, several dropship pilots had also signed up for the aerospace mission, with even more Falcon pilots coming in after they had been shot out of their fighters during the space battle and rescued by forces on planet. Most surprising of all were the few former mercenary aerospace Falcon bondsmen allowed to participate in the battle. Gal had informed Daniela Mattlov that he was confident of getting all thirty advanced fighters into the air by the time they were ready to start their offensive.

"But we still need to bring in one more wave to get enough units." Ian pointed out.

"Not really as big a problem as you might think. Some of the units that just came in were barely touched, and I think we can convince them to take over the welcoming committees for a while, along with Major Soros' unit. Once the next wave comes in, in about two hours time, we let their warriors grab as much rest as they can while we fix up their machines. Then we have one final briefing to make sure everybody knows what to do before we move out."

"I will need to speak to Valten Folkner." Danforth reminded them.

They got her to a communications console, and Lizabet Danforth soon squared matters with the belligerent naval officer. Since she technically outranked him in strategic matters, he was forced to acquiesce to her orders.

But Valten Folkner was not above a few tricks of his own. He had asked for the location of the remaining jumpships belonging to Forsen Mandela. Forsen had protested, but was quickly overridden by the others. Valten intended to have every single possible advantage for his duel with the alien ship, and he had explained his willingness to use any possible means to achieve victory.

_Too much time had passed for the machine intelligence. It had managed to get its sole warship almost fully operational, and it was prepared to start blasting with the ship's orbital weapons at enemy troop concentrations whenever the opportunity presented itself._

_However, that would have hurt its own forces as well in the collateral damage, and the flesh beings also moved too quickly for proper targeting if they were not being pressed by its own forces. In other words, the only way to destroy the enemy forces through orbital bombardment was to sacrifice its own forces, and it was not prepared to do that yet._

_It had intercepted a series of transmission by the flesh beings to one another, but could only make sense out of the planetary maps which showed the positions of all the units on world, information it was able to obtain from its own sensors. The other set of transmissions were undecipherable to the still developing AI._

_A fortunate circumstance for Humanity._

Kily Gonzalez blinked his weary eyes for the umpteenth time as he tried to focus on pushing the _Wolfhound_ beyond the reach of the enemy mechs. Bryan, as usual, was bravely holding the rear, giving the rest of his lance time to disengage.

Without the Dragoon's indefatigable will, Kily was sure they would never have managed to survive this long. They had traveled more than 400 kilometers for the seven hours since the mission started, and Kily felt bone tired.

_They had better be moving out soon. I can't keep this up much longer._

"Sir, wake up." Frank felt something shaking him by the shoulder, as he frolicked in the blue waters of the beach. "Rise and shine, sir."

He tried to brush off the intruding jellyfish on his shoulder, lost in his sweet dreams of swimming naked in the beaches of his homeworld Lackland together with Clarice, his fiancée.

The tech lost patience. "Sir!" _That_ got him awake, as Frank sat up with a start. "The next wave has been in for a while now, and Major Ian and Galaxy Commander Danforth are calling for the final briefing for all personnel."

Frank stared up blearily at the tech, before realizing belatedly that he had fallen asleep at his console in the command center, while trying to predict the possible moves of the enemy AI. "Okay. Tell them I'll be along in a while."

He tried to center himself, while looking around for a mug of coffee to perk himself up. He had a strong feeling that whatever happened today would determine humanity's fate forever. He hoped he was up to whatever might be demanded of him.


	32. New World Order

_Planck's Quantum Hole, Copernicus Caldera,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

_16th March 3068_

Lorik had assigned several techs to get the plumbing system of the base back into order. Naturally, the rooms where the waste were disposed became the toilets, where warriors would relieve themselves of their 'organic waste products'. Due to certain design features, apparently suited to alien physiques, they had to make do with some buckets that would be emptied into the proper receptacles when full. A few unlucky troopers were assigned such latrine duty.

Bathing facilities were yet another problem. The base lacked water showers, and even sonic showers were not known. However, the aliens did have certain cleaning devices in which the cleaning process took almost instantaneous. The person bathing would step into the machine, stay there for ten seconds while the whole compartment was flooded with some strange vapor that contained nanomachines that would quickly scrub and clean away dirt particles and other pollutants on the body.

The major complaint everybody had after using it was that while they _were_ clean after the 'bath', and smelled and looked like it, they did not _feel_ clean. Frank Meronac had chalked that one down to psychological factors.

Therefore, the 'cleaning rooms' became de facto changing rooms as well. The Inner Sphere people had hurriedly pasted up notices to inform all personnel, whether clan or inner sphere born, to stick to using the assigned gender specific rooms, after an embarrassing incident where Daniela Mattlov had wandered into the men's room and proceeded to change her clothes right in front of the male members of the Arch Lancers without batting an eyelid. The sight of her nude body had almost incited a riot in the room.

It had taken Ian Dorlacen quite a while before he could inform her of the differences in Inner Sphere and Clan social mores. His men were not pleased when the scenery left, however.

Ian was still musing over Daniela Mattlov in his mind as he donned his cooling vest in the changing room. Most of the other warriors of his unit had already left to check up on their mechs before the final combined briefing session. Everybody had agreed that having a briefing en masse was better than having only an officers-only briefing, because of the stakes involved and Ian's reluctance to trust some of the less able merc commanders to interpret orders correctly.

He zipped up his cooling vest, and checked again for any leakages in the coolant tubes, which had not been flushed since the last battle. He closed his bag, and prepared to leave the room when Benny Greaves entered.

"Major Ian." The mechwarrior greeted him.

"Hey, Lieutenant Greaves, or is it Captain now?" Ian answered back with a smile, "Anything you want?"

"Yes sir. I want you to stay here and not fight in the battle later." Benny's tone of voice was extremely serious, and the grim look on his face quickly killed Ian's hopes of this being a joke.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Benny repeated his words, "You heard me. I would like you to stay away from the fight."

"You and what army?" Ian scoffed as he started to walk towards the door.

"I and the fact that you have to stay alive for the sake of the Taurian Concordat." Benny moved to block the door.

Ian stopped in his tracks. He had an inking of what Benny was hinting at, but he did not want his thoughts to follow up that line of thought.

"I have no idea of what you mean." Ian feigned ignorance, trying to act as nonchalant as possible.

"Don't tell me you have given up completely on your lineage, Major Ian." The very words Ian feared slid out of Benny's mouth.

"Who are you?" Ian demanded, his voice low and threatening.

"Captain Benny Greaves, Taurian Defense Forces, currently on special assignment. You can probably guess what my special mission is now, sir."

Ian leaned back wearily on a wall. The moment he had dreaded for years had finally arrived. In a way, he was glad, because he would not have to run away any longer. By the same token, he also knew he would have to face up to his past once and for all.

"Why are you here? To kill me?" Ian held up one hand, "No, wait, that's not it. If so, you would have let us die outside when we were trying to extract the Falcons. So you want me alive, for some reason, right?"

Benny nodded. "Yes sir. In fact, it was your sister who gave me my mission orders."

_Janice._ Ian had fond memories of his elder sister, and she was one of the few people he truly cared for. He recalled memories of her reading to him from a storybook, of pushing her wheelchair around after she was stricken by that terrible disease which not only ruined a life but threw the entire question of succession into doubt.

Most vividly of all, he remembered the look of disappointment on her face when he ran away from their estate home for the last time to join up with the Green Mountain Boys.

"And what does she want? Last I heard the Concordat was doing fine." Ian asked.

"She wants you to go back, sir. The Taurian Concordat may seem fine from the outside, but everybody knows better. Grover Shraplen is no more than a power hungry dictator willing to pay Taurian lives to maintain the so-called Trinity Alliance. He let our troops die for the goals of a Liao! Who has given us nothing but peanuts in return!" Benny spat. "Yeah, yeah, we are now a Star League member state, but it doesn't mean anything. Not with the blood of our citizens dying in some war that was supposed to be other people's business. As if the SLDF will defend us if war comes. Like what happened to the St Ives Compact and the Federated Commonwealth? Hah!" Benny paused for a while, trying to regain his breath.

Benny continued in a much calmer tone. "Lady Janice wants you to go back to Taurus. She says there are a lot of important matters to discuss, not least of which is the possible removal of Grover Shraplen as Protector."  
Ian's mind was racing as he replied, "You're talking treason."

Benny laughed. "Treason? Not really, provided we can get the people behind us. Your sister wasn't the only one plotting in the background. There're a few others, I think, though I don't know who they are. Everybody's getting tired of Grover and his fear of the Davion bogeyman, plus his refusal to name your nephew Erik as regent ticked off a lot of people. Your sister sent me to find you, before any of Grover's goons could get to you."

Ian asked, "You think he might be sending out assassins to remove threats to his power?"

"Who knows? The death of Felix's son Richard was already suspicious enough. Lady Janice didn't want to take any risks, so she sent me to look for you. It wasn't easy, as you no doubt know. You threw up one heck of a twisted trail for me to follow."

Ian grinned ruefully. "Sorry, but I was trying to get as far away from my past as possible."

"It has caught up with you now. Listen, Major, you might be more important than you know. You don't have to fight."

Shaking his head, Ian said firmly, "My men will be out there, Captain Greaves. As their commander, I must be with them. It is a matter of leadership, of honor. Furthermore, we need every jock we can scrape up for the coming battle. The odds aren't very good, and there might not be a second chance if we mess this one up."

"You could lead them equally well from the command center."

"It's not the same. How can I ask my men to take risks that I'm not willing to take myself? I've always believed in leadership by example. That's not going to change. Especially now."

Benny sighed. "I can't convince you, can I?"

"No, you can't. But I can promise you that I'll live through this, and then we'll go to Taurus. If my sister really needs my help, then I had better go back. I'm tired of running away, and besides, I haven't been home for a long time." Ian straightened himself, and pushed himself off the wall. "Let's go, Benny. Time's a-wasting."

"Yes sir."

Securing a laser pistol to a holster on her hip, Daniela Mattlov looked at her troops in the area just outside the changing rooms, all of them standing ready at attention to move out to the briefing area together.

She smiled inwardly at the commotion caused when she had wandered into the Lancer's changing room. She truly did not realize that her stripping naked would have so distressed the mercenaries. Even after living for years in the Jade Falcon Occupation Zones, her limited contact with the lower castes of the civilian population had not prepared her for their strange rules and customs.

She savored the look on Ian Dorlacen's face as his hungry eyes ate up every inch of her body before he snapped himself back to awareness. He made her put her clothes back on and ushered her to the female dressing rooms, much to the dismay of his men.

As she thought about it, she was also mystified by her own feelings whenever she was around the mercenary commander. She knew she was attracted to him, but for some strange reason she did not dare to just walk up to him and ask for a coupling session.

She angrily shifted the focus of her thoughts as she realized that her troops were fully prepared, and waiting for her to lead them out. Their faces looked blank, but Daniela knew they were wondering why they were standing there when they should be heading for the briefing hall.

_There will be time for this later,_ she hoped.

Deserk and Descartin were securing their own cooling vests, while Yoshino Ihara polished his katana and wakizashi almost lovingly with a fine cloth. Yoshino had already changed into his cooling combat suit, obtained from the DCMS when he had graduated from Sun Zhang, and held on stubbornly during his time in the clans.

"I vaguely remember our brawl so many years ago with those two old pig stickers. You're not really thinking of bring them into your cockpit, are you?" Deserk asked the former Kurita.

"I am. Is there a problem?"

"Uh, wouldn't a pistol of something that could do some real damage be better? Besides, what could can it do to a mech, or even a _Spidercrab_?"

"I won't be too sure of that, Deserk. I have seen one of those old 'pig stickers' slice through mech grade armor." Descartin said.

"You have to be kidding me." Deserk rolled his eyes in disbelief.

"He is not. Star Captain Des has seen the capabilities of this katana firsthand. And it has even saved your life once, has it not, Star Captain?" Yoshino added.

"Aff. I will never forget the surprise on my elemental opponent's face when he found that it took only one swipe from your ancient sword to break his." Des laughed lightly. "It was in my Trial of Bloodright. I won, of course."

"Ancient? How old is it, Yoshino?"

"This blade is my family heirloom. It is seven centuries old." Yoshino said proudly.

"Incredible." Deserk breathed. "I am sorry for disrespecting such a sacred weapon. I hope it will continue to serve you well in the future." He bowed to Yoshino in respect.

Yoshino returned the bow, holding it just as long as Deserk had. As he straightened up, Descartin clapped them both on the shoulders.

"And I am glad that both of you are here. I had not expected to see you here, Deserk, and I am thankful to the fates for bringing us together to fight alongside each other once more just like when we were in the sibko. Yoshino, you are the best companion any warrior can ever ask for. Although I have said before that you are free to leave whenever you want, I would be lying if I said I would not miss your skill." Descartin grinned. "Together, we will not fail."

He noticed Deserk kissing a piece of paper. "What are you doing?"

Deserk flashed them a look at the piece of paper, which turned out to be a photograph of a woman. "My wife. For good luck." He tucked it into a side pocket of his vest.

"You must love her very dearly." Yoshino commented.

"Aff. She was the one who helped me get used to life in the Dragoons. I don't know where I would have been without her."

"I envy you."

"Why?" Deserk was puzzled.

"Because you got to choose your own doom."

"Choose my own doom? You think marriage to be worse than death?" Deserk asked skeptically as his eyes seemed to bore deeply into Yoshino.

The warrior shifted uneasily under his gaze. "Okay, okay, I'll say it out now. Des, I never told you this, because it didn't seem to matter, but one reason for my not going back to the Draconis Combine was uh, because there's an arranged marriage waiting for me."

The other two trueborn warriors stared at him for a moment, before breaking up into laughter.

"Hey, that's not funny. This is my future I'm talking about!" Yoshino protested.

"By the Kerenskys, I thought you followed me solely out of loyalty. Turns out you have personal reasons for not going back after all!" Des was clutching his sides, in a bit of pain from his laughing because of his prior injuries. "Why didn't you say so that many years ago when we were fighting?"

Deserk shook his head in mock disappointment, chiding Yoshino gently. "My friend, what is there to be afraid of? After all, you can always break off the arrangement…"

Yoshino waved his hands frantically, "I can't! That's the problem! Her family has blood ties to the Kuritas, so they outrank mine. If I go back, her parents call the shots. And I do not even know what she looks like! And I still have return one day to fulfill my vendetta!"

"Well, it is certainly one problem for the future." Descartin said. "How about this? We'll probably be going to Outreach after this campaign. We can settle it there. I hope." There was a mischievous grin on Descartin's face, which made Yoshino groan.

Deserk checked his watch. "Time's getting late." Deserk swept one arm out to the door theatrically. "Shall we? The enemy awaits."

Frank had changed into his mechwarrior attire, and was walking along a corridor to the repair bays, which would also serve as the briefing area. The corridor was packed with warriors making their way to the bays, many in their combat wear. His arms and legs felt cold, as the mechwarrior vest covered only his torso, unlike the Kurita mechwarrior cooling suit which afforded the entire coverage of the body. Only the bandages on his arm gave him some degree of warmth in the corridor.

For a moment, Frank was envious of Yoshino Ihara and the few other former DCMS soldiers for having such a valuable piece of technology. Not even the clans had such equipment.__

_Maybe I should ask Lorik about installing a heating system in here_, he mused.

Pushing down that useless thought, Frank emerged from the corridor into the vast repair bay, where a good number of warriors had already gathered. He made his way to the front, where a makeshift podium had been set up.

He spotted Ian Dorlacen and Benny Greaves, as well as a number of other commanders already standing there. Lizabet Danforth was conferring with a few of her officers, while Descartin Winters and Deserk were approaching from another tunnel. Some Elementals were already suited up in their battlearmor, lacking only the head armor section, and lounging near the Falcons.

"Attention, all personnel!" Ian picked up a loudspeaker placed on the podium. "This is your final briefing before the battle."

The low level noise within the bay suddenly ceased, as everybody turned to face the podium.

Ian continued, "Many of you already know that there're too many enemy mechs for us to destroy without taking significant losses. Some of you might even know that there is an enemy warship parked in orbit that can wipe us and this planet off the face of the universe. We can't get off, and we can't hide for too long. So we strike back."

"And there are plenty of ways for us to strike back."

"First phase of the plan will be for the two Jade Falcon warships, commanded by Star Commodore Valten Folkner, to engage the enemy warship. The battle will be quickly joined by Star Commander Galietra Binneti and his aerojocks in their new fighters."

"However, even with the new fighters, it is unlikely that we will be able to destroy the enemy aerospace forces. Therefore, we will next deploy ten naval batteries situated all over the planet. Their positions are chosen such that at least one cannon can target the enemy warship in orbit at all times."

"This brings us to another problem. With the deployment of the cannons, the black mechs will be able to infiltrate into the base. Therefore, the cannons must be defended by ground troops."

"Each cannon will be defended by approximately a battalion of troops. Hopefully, the enemy warship will be destroyed before our ground forces are overwhelmed. Each of you will report to your commanders, who have already been informed of who to report to. Individual warriors without units will be held as a reserve pool to be assigned to hot spots after our initial deployment. They will report to the command center."

Ian paused. "I will now pass the speaker to Frank Meronac, who will be the overall commander for this battle."

As he passed the loudspeaker to Frank, Frank was shocked. "Ian, are you kidding? I only agreed to the post when we opened the doors. Wouldn't Lizabet Danforth or even yourself be better?"

"I'm not kidding. The majority of folks here are merc, and they'll not listen to a clanner. As for me, I think you can adapt more easily to new situations than me, which is exactly what we need for this battle. Who knows what the bad guys might come up with next?"

"I'm not sure about that…"

"You know I'm right, so just accept this honor." Ian smiled confidently.

Frank took a deep breath. "All right. Thanks for the vote of confidence." He took the loudspeaker, and climbed nervously to the podium stage.

He stood there for a while, trying to think of what to say. A pep talk? Or some grim statement of intent? And for what purpose?

He regretted not taking up that public speech course that was so popular at the NAIS for young nobles. Not being of noble birth himself, he had never thought of the usefulness of being able to speak in public. _How would I have known?_

He started tentatively. "Uh, hello. I'm Frank Meronac, uh, the overall commander, temporary of course, for this battle. I'm new at this, I mean the speech part, so please don't get offended." He sneaked a quick glance at Deserk, who shook his head and grimaced at Frank's opening. Frank winced visibly at Deserk's action.

_Damn, what am I going to say? _Frank found himself sweating profusely. _Okay, here goes nothing._

He cleared his throat, and said, "All of you came here to seek a fortune and your future from the ruins of the Star League. Mercenary or Jade Falcon, you thought of maybe a boring search of an abandoned world, and at worst returning with empty hands and emptier pockets. Even after the Falcons arrived, we thought only of fighting each other in battles where we still knew, more or less, what to expect from each other."

"No more of that now. We are facing enemies which have wiped out an entire civilization, who do not take prisoners, with weapons and numbers beyond our worst nightmares. They want nothing more than our total extinction."

Frank waited a moment for the severity of his last sentence to sink in. "The stakes have never been higher. They have more forces waiting amongst the cosmos, looking for more worlds to conquer, more people to destroy. And they might already be on their way to the Inner Sphere. They will destroy and enslave all the nations of humanity, no matter what they are. The only people who know this are all here, on this world, in this base. We must get the word out, spread the technology and science we have found here. We need to warn humanity, all of humanity, not just a few factions, of the coming threat, and the very first step to accomplishing it would be to win this battle."

His voice grew in strength and passion, as he tried to reach out to the hearts and minds of the warriors listening. "No longer should we see ourselves as Fedcom, Jade Falcon, Capellan, merc, or some other division that splinters our unity. We will need to put aside our differences, for it is our very existence as a people, as a species, that is threatened. No more should you think of yourself as just a Lyran or a Feddie. God knows how much grief that had brought us for the past five years." Frank rolled his eyes.

"It is time for a _new world order_, one in which people can accept one another for what they are, without trying to impose their views on each other!"

"When you go out there and fight, don't think of the freebirth surat or the vat-born clansman who is covering your flank to be only a temporary ally. Think of him or her as a fellow human being, with their own hopes, their own dreams, their own fears. Deep down, no matter where we are born, or how we came to be here, we are the same. We all want the freedoms to do with our lives as we wish. We all want food, shelter, and a comforting hand when we are down. These are what make us human, so let them be our source of strength!"

"When historians look back on this historic battle, let them marvel at our resilience, our willingness to adapt, and our courage. So go out there, and fight like you've always wanted to, because humanity deserves, and _needs_, nothing less than your very best!" Frank lowered the loudspeaker, drained from his speech. There was no reaction for a while, as silence reigned in the repair bay. He saw more than a few warriors looking stunned.

_Maybe I laid it on a bit too thickly. _Frank was about to jump down the stage when he heard the strong sound of clapping. Descartin Winters and his troop, the Lancers, the merc units who had entered the base first, and even some of the Falcons were putting their hands together in enthusiasm, their faces strong and proud.

Before he knew it, the bay erupted into cheers, as the warriors roared their support. Their support washed over him like a physical force, uplifting his mind, body and soul.

Frank raised the speaker to his lips solemnly. "All right troops, move out."

Almost immediately, the crowd began to disperse, the warriors running for their machines, their morale high after Frank's speech. He leapt down from the podium, and prepared to head for his own _Night Gyr_, when he noticed a familiar face in elemental battlearmor.

"Lorik, what the heck are you doing in _that_?" Frank exclaimed.

The scientist turned around at Frank's voice, looking like an oversized knight in armor. "Ah, Frank, good speech there. The best I have ever heard, though the value of my opinion is dubious since that _is_ the only before-battle speech I have ever heard in my life."

Frank shook his head vehemently, "No, no, what I mean is, what are you doing in battlearmor?"

"One of Drenner's men got injured during the rescue of the Falcons. The suit was fixed up, but since there was no spare trained operator around, I asked Major Ian if I could use it. Naturally, he agreed. Before you protest, may I add that I am fully versed in all aspects of battlearmor combat. I chose to forgo my Trial of Position because I was too interested in science. That did not mean I was not good enough to be a warrior."

"But, but…"

"We need every warrior for the battle. And since there is a spare suit, and there is me, I decided to give you real warriors a hand. What's the problem?"

Throwing up his arms in resignation, Frank acquiesced. "All right, you win. Just make sure you preserve your butt, because we still need you to make sense of the data and the science. Not that we can't get someone else, well, you get the idea."

"Don't worry, I'll be back." Lorik grinned, then hurried to catch up with the band of elementals moving to a rack to don the bulky head armor, his heavy armor making loud 'clump, clump' sounds on the floor as he walked off.

"I certainly hope so." Frank whispered to himself.

"Frank Meronac." He turned at the calling of his name, only to see Hamirah Rasouf in a cooling vest.

"No matter what you might have done in the past for the civil war, I now know it is all over. We have all done things we regretted in that conflict, and I am sorry I did not take my defeat well. I have finally come to an understanding. I may not support what you did, but as long as you treat my unit fairly, I am willing to accept you as commander."

Frank was elated. "So that means your _Stalker_ will be taking part in the fight?"

"Yes. These are my troops after all, and my place is at their head, and nowhere else."

"Get going then, and thanks for the support." Frank saluted formally, which was returned in kind by Captain Rasouf.

_Things are looking up._ The change of heart by Captain Rasouf was an encouraging sign. Frank figured they need all the breaks they could get.

He finally climbed into his _Night Gyr_ and began the start up sequence. He then contacted the command center by pressing a button on his right.

"Command Center, this is Raider Lead." The nomenclature for the various units had already been assigned beforehand. His assumption of command did not change that.

"Send the message to Star Commodore Valten Folkner to start his attack in five minutes. Send up our aerojocks as per the plan, fifteen minutes after the Falcons start accelerating for the enemy. Also, inform Captain Helene Rice to start their jump in twenty minutes."

"Roger," the reply came.

As he was talking to the commtech, Frank was busy flipping switches, sticking on medical monitor patches, and attaching the coolant cable from his vest to a jack on the left of his command couch. He savored the chill caused by the coolant as it started to circulate within the vest. He knew that would not last.

Frank drew out his neurohelmet from a compartment behind his head, settling it down snugly around his head, on the padded collars of his cooling vest. He adjusted it to get the best fit for the receptors on the helmet interior, then secured the helmet by using the Velcro fasteners. He stuck more medical patches to a plate near his throat, and closed the chinstrap.

Pressing another button on the console started the identification sequence. A computer generated voice barked out, "The Flaming Gyr 007 is online. Please identify yourself, or I'll shoot you out of my anus."

Frank grinned. It had been the custom by the Raider techs to insert some levity into every machine they have. All the original identification initial startup sequences had been modified in a similar manner, with anal and crass jokes the most popular.

He answered, "Frank Meronac."

"Your voice matches my records. Please wait impatiently…"

After ten seconds, the voice of the computer came back on, "You have to complete this initiation sequence, or I will self implode in despair and pity."

"It's quiet now, but not for long."

"Phrase confirmed. You have full control. Damn shame about it too, coz I could have enjoyed a few more moments of vaginal penetration." _God, I hope the techs don't ever decided to cook up an AI for this mech, or it'll be the rudest in existence._

Frank waited for the software to confirm the hardware configuration of the omnimechs before the power was fed to the weapons. After that was done, he began to work the foot pedals, as well as pushing his throttle forward, bringing the _Night Gyr_ out of its bay, the long coolant tube detaching from the mech's rear as it walked out and into the corridor, joining the line of Raider mechs and other vehicles marching in line to the respective rail shuttles that would transport them to their assigned locations, following the routes markings on his map.__


	33. On A Wing And A Prayer

_Warship _Blue Aerie_, System Transit,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery,_

_16th March 3068___

"Star Commodore, we have just received the signal to commence our attack." A commtech reported to Valten Folkner, strapped in snugly in his command seat, as usual.

He asked, "Is it verified?"

"Aff, it is in authenticated code."

"Very well." Valten swiveled his chair around to face his helmsman. "Helm, 80% thrust. All gunners, standby. Fighter control, launch fighters in ten minutes. All ships in wedge formation."

"Aff, Star Commodore." His men hastened to their tasks, as a steady pull was quickly felt by the entire bridge. The massive warship was accelerating, with its sister ship _White Aerie_ beside it, and a horde of lesser dropships swarming behind. It was an impressive sight for any observer.

Valten knew it would not be enough to defeat the enemy ship. The two warships were still carrying wounds from the last fight, and many of the dropships had yet to be repaired. They needed the additional ground to orbit support, as well as a surprise Lizabet Danforth had promised him. He only wished he knew what she meant by that.

He cursed under his breath. He had half a mind to order one of the jumpships holding position at the nadir jump point to go back to the occupation zone in case they lost the battle. However, the information he had received on the enemy warship had suggested that it would be useless to do so, because if they failed, then the enemy warship would be able to chase the jumpship down anyway.

The full story as related to him by Daniela Mattlov and Lizabet Danforth had him shocked at first. Aliens, civilization destroyers, advanced jump capability, etc. He remembered feeling a bit lost as they threw a whole load of information at him all of a sudden, and then poring over the data for hours trying to make sense out of them.

In the end, he had managed to glean enough information about the enemy warship to know exactly what was needed to defeat it.

It had defensive shields, everybody knew that now. An energy shield capable of blocking projectile and energy weapons of all categories. Backing up the shields further was something called a shield hardening device, which would boost the shield regeneration rate and reduce the damage from shield piercing direct fire weapons, or whatever they are. Even so, Valten wished he had some of those shield piercing weapons, which would even up the odds greatly, considering the weak armor plating of the ship. He had lost his temper when he had realized that he had the alien warship almost crippled in the last fight.

_If only I had pressed the attack for two more minutes! _The thought ran constantly in his head for the last few hours. If he had done so, they would not be in such a predicament, and the aliens would had been no more than a side note in the eventual Falcon victory.

Things had not turned out that way though, and all he had to show for the previous battle were two badly damaged warships, dozens of dead pilots, and several destroyed dropships.

The enemy warship, in stark contrast, was back to peak efficiency, if reports from the base concerning its self repairing abilities were correct.

Nevertheless, Valten Folkner was a Jade Falcon, and he would never admit total defeat while he could still fight. His men were much of the same mind, and even some of the Inner Sphere dropships which had joined them were eager to rescue their comrades.

"Star Commodore, enemy warship will be within firing range in ten minutes!"

He acknowledged the report. "Aff. Continue on course."

_Planck's Quantum Hole, Copernicus Caldera,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

_16th March 3068_

Squeezed into the cockpit of his _Seraph_, Galietra Binneti was feeling rather apprehensive as he taxied the fighter to the launch bay.

True to his word, Frank Meronac had gotten the techs to fix up the fighters for human use. Gal and his men had spent a lot of time trying to get themselves familiarized with the weapons systems, which were quite different from human ones, using the flight simulators.

Problem was, they had no way of approximating the effects of the exotic alien technology with human combat scales. In the end, he had to concede that they would have better off sleeping through the last few hours.

There was a 'slicer' cannon which fired a continuous plasma beam, and another called a phaser, which was akin to a laser except for its vastly superior energy output. His craft carried a pair of both weapons in the wings, while the nose packed more weaponry in the form of quad mass drivers, which were described to him as smaller and more efficient gauss rifles.

There were also two scores of missile racks placed above the fuselage, capable of firing a deadly swarm of high velocity missiles with the range of LRMs and the damage profile of SRMs, coupled to an integrated image recognition targeting system. Unfortunately for their ground troops, the missiles could only work in space. The specifications for the fighter had indicated that the launchers could fire 15 salvos before running out.

Last of all, there was the single heavy missile capable of puncturing through the enemy shield, though it required the launching unit to maintain a straight line to the target ship for a certain amount of time for the missile systems to figure out the shield frequency pattern in order for the penetration device to kick in. The 'torpedo', as the techs had dubbed the special missile, was slung under the belly of the fighter.

_Seraph_, the Inner Sphere pilots had named the fighter, after they had tired of just calling it 'the alien fighter'. In the end, everybody had accepted the name, and some techs had even painted out angels on the fighters, wings and all, decked out with swords and shotguns, in a show of artistry. They had maintained that it was a tradition dating back to the time when men hunted each other through the skies in propeller driven aircraft.

Gal had thought their efforts a waste of time, but he did appreciate their dedication at getting the fighters to work with human interface systems. Even so, they had warned him and his pilots that the connections were not fully reliable, and could fail at any moment, due to inadequate testing. They said they needed more time to work out the bugs in the system, but circumstances had forced them to deploy the fighters regardless of any problems that still existed.

What that meant was something Gal did not want his mind to dwell on.

As the engine beneath his cockpit throbbed with life, he was reminded of the sheer technological advantage the aliens had conferred on them. The quantum engine was capable of pushing 30Gs, an incomprehensible level of acceleration which could instantly crush a human body.

Except that they had another nifty piece of tech called inertial compensators, which could counteract the G-forces. Evidently, the aliens were as vulnerable to physical forces as human beings.

There was a dial set up near the pilot seat to control the amount of compensation. Some pilots had advised setting it to about 98 or 99%, which would still leave the pilot with a 'feel' of the _Seraph_ in movement, instead of blocking out the G-forces completely. Gal had agreed, though he knew some idiots who had turned their compensators to the max.

Due to the special properties of the quantum engine, the principles of which Lorik was still trying to understand, the _Seraph _could also remain indefinitely in combat without any fuel dependence, making it the ultimate endurance fighter.

_Not just that, but the ultimate combat fighter_, Gal admitted to himself. There was nothing in humanity's arsenals that could have matched up to the _Seraph _in terms of speed, firepower, or defensive strength. Which brought him to thinking about the defensive items on the _Seraph_.

The fighter was covered with an extremely dense material they called 'neutronium', which Lorik had described as "basically like the surface of a neutron star, but thankfully not as dense, and gravitic effects are counteracted by anti-gravity devices embedded in the hull". Which still left Gal with no idea of what exactly the material was.

And before the armor could even be touched, attacks would have to go through the much lauded shield defense system, which enclosed the entire fighter in an energy shell which could absorb what seemed to Gal to be obscene amounts of damage before going down.

Another feature for Gal to be happy about was the lack of overheating in the fighter. Instead of heat problems, Gal had to contend with energy generation ones. The massive amounts of energy demanded by the weapons, thrust engine, and shields meant that he had to carry out a precarious juggling act between the energy allocation to the various systems for maximum effectiveness, even with the virtually unlimited amount of power generated by the engines.

Each _Seraph_ was 75 tons, a remarkable weight for the sheer amount of firepower and armor it packed. The ejection mechanism consisted of a detachable escape pod from the entire fighter, complete with its own small propulsion and life support systems capable of lasting for up to 48 hours.

As he taxied the fighter to the launch pad, which would tilt the fighter towards the skies, Galietra reviewed his assignment of the pilots for the coming battle.

He had tried as much as possible to pair up a strong pilot with a weak one, forming fifteen pairs of fighters. Seven pairs were assigned to one squadron, with one pair selected as the command pair for the squadron, and one member of the command pair being the officer in charge of the squadron. The last pair was his own, with him in overall command.

His wingman Trisha Sawyer was a rookie Inner Sphere pilot who was shot down early in the battles between the Falcons and the mercenaries and captured as a bondswoman. Gal had to push the young pilot hard during the simulator exercises to drill her in the proper dogfighting techniques, which she was sorely deficient in. Overall, teamwork drills and formation flying were largely neglected, due to the lack of sufficient simulators to work with.

Galietra could only hope that their lack of coordination would not hurt them later.

As the _Seraph _reached the area marked out by paint on the floor, Galietra halted his fighter. A low whirring sound precede the raising of a patch of the floor behind the fighter, for it to brace against when tilted.

"Five minutes to launch." A tech called out over the communications set.

Gal nodded to himself, as he felt the fighter tilting upwards. Leaning back into his seat, Gal looked around the launch bay, and saw the same thing happening to all the other _Seraphs_.

The plan called for them to carry out a standard Combat Air Patrol, with the elimination of enemy fighters being their main task. With an estimated 400 enemy fighters still remaining, it would not be an easy task even with the _Seraphs_ backing up the fighters from the Falcon warships.

A torpedo run was up to their own discretion, but Gal had the feeling that the longer lock times required practically mandated the removal of more enemy fighters before they could start any such run.

Gal was shaken out of his ruminations by the commtech. "Launch in two minutes!"

Taking the opportunity to recheck all his systems one more time, Gal also uttered a quick prayer to the Kerenskys for luck. Although Jade Falcons were rarely superstitious, and never did put their faith into the notions of chance and fortune, Gal was worried sufficiently by the imminent battle that he felt asking for a bit of divine intervention would not hurt.

"All units," the tech called out again. "Launching in twenty seconds!"

"Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen…"

Gal gripped his Hands-On-Stick-And-Throttle tightly with both hands.

"Twelve, eleven, ten, nine…"

He tried to blank his mind of all feeling, of all emotion, focusing only on the huge wall in front of him.

"Eight, seven, six, five…"

The walls before the Seraphs suddenly parted, giving them a good look at the bright sky beyond. There were few clouds, and Gal thought he could glimpse a look of the fusion flares from the arriving warships.

The tech was shouting out the countdown. "FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE…"

_Here we go._

"_LAUNCH!_"

Gal shoved his HOTAS forward. The _Seraph_ shot forward into the sky instantaneously, sounding like an avenging banshee as it screamed into the skies. Gal had thought himself prepared for the acceleration of the _Seraph_, but it still amazed him to realize the sheer speed of his flight.

He did not need to check his screens to know that 29 other identical fighters were right alongside him as they dashed into space, gradually forming up into an attack pattern with Gal in the lead.

As they left the planetary atmosphere, Gal could see the enemy warship moving towards two _Black-Lion_ warships, while a whole wave of black fighters headed towards him. He brushed his triggers lightly with his fingertips, eager to do some hunting.

_The machine intelligence was not at all prepared for the sudden appearance of the new fighters, packing advanced technology that could only be the work of the Qlictorio. It quickly accessed the situation, and it came to a distressing conclusion._

_The flesh beings had managed to recover and utilize some of the technology left behind in the base._

_Its drones had enough trouble fighting against the flesh beings with their present tech levels. With the advanced weaponry now available to them, the machine intelligence's task would be even more difficult._

_Thankfully, it had two more sets of reserved special drones, one of fighters and one of mechs. It had wanted to hold them in reserve until absolutely required, and the present situation certainly looked like it needed something to tilt the balance back towards its drones._

_It commanded its command vessel to depart the sea in which it had hidden for eons. As the craft broke through the surface, fighter bay doors opened in the hull._

_Fifty night-black fighters, sleek and deadly, blazed out of the doors, angling up towards the raging space battle._

"Tell the _Bayer _to scatter its explosives now! Helm, hold steady! All gunners, continue to fire at will!" Valten clasped the edge of his seat tightly as the conflict unfolded before him.

His fleet had bored in straight at the enemy warship, with the _White Aerie_ taking point in front of the _Blue Aerie_ as they closed in. The _White Aerie_ had turned quickly to present its undamaged starboard flank to the enemy, while the _Blue Aerie_, still lacking armor on both sides, engaged at long range, using the _White Aerie_ as a shield to block incoming blows. Valten had the _Blue Aerie_ delivering one broadside after another at the alien ship, hammering away at its shields.

They were concentrating fire as much as possible on the enemy warship, but it kept shifting about, causing them to fire on the stronger shield sections instead of the weaker ones.

Valten had countered by sending his dropships in an enveloping movement, while using them to seed the areas around the warship with lifeboats packed with remote controlled explosives. He intended to direct the lifeboats towards certain weakened shield sections once there were enough of them scattered in any one area.

The entry of Galietra Binneti's aerospace squadron was the most surprising, and the most welcome. They had torn into the enemy fighters with a vengeance, swiping away the drones harassing his dropships with considerable ease. Valten almost wished he was a simple pilot again, flying one of those awesome _Seraph_ fighters.

The bridge trembled as an enemy fighter claimed a piece of armor near their position before a _Seraph_ swung in and blasted it out of existence.

Valten was furious. "Tell Star Commander Pendiv to keep those stravag fighters away from our bridge!" Warship fighter cover was supposed to be the responsibility of Pendiv's aerospace star, while Galietra Binneti's squadron already had its hands full trimming down the enemy fighter population.

He added, "I do not want a Radstadt to happen to us!"

Everybody picked up on that. Free Rasalhague Republic pilot Tyra Miraborg had slain ilKhan Leo Showers by ramming her fighter into the _Dire Wolf_'s bridge during the Battle of Radstadt, and earned eternal fame and even several lines in the Remembrance for her courage. Nobody wanted that to happen here.

"Sir," The radar operator yelled, "picking up more contacts approaching from the planet!"

Galietra Binneti pushed his throttle forward as he picked off the fighter that had been attempting to shoot at the bridge of the _Blue Aerie_.

Swinging away from the massive _Black Lion_, he veered back into the thick of the action, firing his plasma slicers and phasers all the while, claiming two more black fighters. His wingman Trisha kept her fighter close, ready to support him if he ran into trouble.

Their initial strike had been an unqualified success. The enemy fighters had been sent reeling by the firepower of the _Seraph_s, and together the human fighters had destroyed almost a third of the enemy fighter strength.

But there had been losses as well. Three _Seraph_s had been destroyed by enemy fire due to interface problems, as the pilots suddenly lost control of their craft in the midst of combat, while another two had been downed by overwhelming firepower from the enemy fighters.

His communications set suddenly crackled. "Seraph Lead, this is Command! We are picking up enemy fighter contacts from an enemy atmospheric cruiser. Ally thinks they are probably advanced enemy fighters, with shields and heavy weaponry!"

_Freebirth! Still, we have been warned of such a possible move by the enemy._ Gal quickly assessed the situation.

"Aff." He replied. "All _Seraph_s, regroup and form up on me!"

He pushed his HOTAS to the upper right hand corner, sending the _Seraph_ into a corkscrew towards the incoming enemy fighters. The other surviving members of his squadron followed him out of the swirling melee.

Gal hoped the other human fighters would be able to handle the black fighters on their own, while his own unit dueled with the newcomers.

He spoke to his squadron. "Watch out, people! These are advanced fighters, and probably on par with our own. Cover each other as much as possible, and focus on staying alive. And no matter what, stick to your wingman!"

"Here they come!" Peggy called out unnecessarily as the black dots came into view.

The two fighter groups fired at extreme ranges simultaneously. Gal decided not to hold back any more, and unleashed the missiles he had been hoarding since the start of the battle.

It was the right decision. His direct fire weapons slammed uselessly into the forward shields of the enemy fighter he had targeted, but his missiles managed to crash through the weakened shields, killing the fighter as they destroyed the front section of the craft.

Before it died, the fighter replied with its own weaponry, a combination of phasers and missiles which reduced his own shield protection by more than 80%.

Gal twisted his _Seraph _away as a second wave of black fighters appeared, trying to protect his forward section from being denuded by further attacks, as the charge dissolved into a wild dogfight.

He found himself covering Trisha as she went after a black fighter, hammering away at its aft shields with her mass drivers firing one after another, using the sheer volume of fire to compensate for her poor accuracy. Flashes of blue energy around the black fighter greeted every one of her attacks that connected, while his own sensors indicated that she was close to punching through the shields soon.

"Trisha, break hard left!" He yelled as he spied two black fighters approaching from 9 o'clock position. She reacted immediately, her _Seraph_ turning away into the enemy position and taking them by surprise as Gal opened up with his own guns on the flank of one of the enemy fighters.

He failed to punch through the shields this time, but he managed to swing around on the black fighter's rear, with Trisha covering him his back and returning the favor.

As they fought, Gal realized that the presence of the shields had changed the complexion of the battle completely. The regenerative nature of shields meant that ships could recover effectiveness after a period of time, and this led to longer dogfights.

The cooperation between the human pilots was proving to be crucial, as they were able to ask one another for cover once their own shields were down. Gal could count fifteen enemy fighters down, while he had lost only five more _Seraphs_, to both equipment failures and enemy fighters. It was very tough going, and he doubted they would be able to make any more contribution to the ongoing warship battle until they had eliminated the advanced fighters first.

As he broke off his pursuit of the black fighter on another warning from Trisha, he spied a series of flashes off to his port side.

Forsen Mandela's jumpships had arrived.

Captain Helene Rice wiped the sweat off her face as the crew of the _Sevoto_ struggled to bring the jumpship around to bring its thrusters to bear on the enemy warship. She looked around the view screen to see the other two jumpships that had followed them trying to do the same. The _Tayo _had remained behind as its jump drive had been damaged in the earlier jump into the asteroid field.

Conventional spacecraft piloting rules dictated that the operators keep the vessel's drive venturis well clear of any other ship or facility, as the hydrogen ion exhaust from the primary thrusters could inflict quite a bit of damage.

The rules were all thrown out of the airlock now. That crazy clanner Valten Folkner wanted to use her jumpships as the biggest goddamned PPCs in the galaxy!

_Star Commodore indeed,_ she thought. Weren't clanners, especially Jade Falcons, sticklers for rules? The order from Forsen Mandela for her to jump in with her jumpships to act as 'fire support' for the Jade Falcons had been last and greatest surprise in a journey fraught with unpleasant surprises.

_Wait for my order_, the Falcon had commanded. Until then, they were to hang back and simply watch the battle in progress.

She prayed for the enemy to continue ignoring her small fleet, which they were doing thus far in favor of the more dangerous dropships and warships. Of course, that was only because her ships did not pose any threat. _Yet._

Then a series of jump flashes signaled the arrival of the other jumpships, which had been captured by the Falcons when they had just arrived in the system. Helene could only sympathize with the other jumpship operators, who had been forced by the Valten Folkner into his harebrained scheme.

"Star Commodore, the _White Aerie_ reports that they have lost all starboard armor!"

"_White Aerie_ to pull back! Helm, 20% thrust! Tell all damage control crews to prepare for weapons damage!"

The drive thrusters of the _Blue Aerie_ flared, as the ship started to move forward again, closing in with the enemy warship while the _White Aerie_ backed away. Valten could see the terrible scars the enemy warship had wrought on the _White Aerie_, gaping holes where armor plate once existed, the melted and reformed twisted alloy forming crazed patterns along the hull. A huge piece of half solidified Harjel floated past his bridge, testament to the ferocity of the battle.

All three ships were flinging tremendous amounts of firepower at each other, a virtual light show in space as bright volleys of light erupted from the enemy warship, replied by multi-ton missile swarms and autocannon slugs, only for them to impact futilely on the shields, causing ripples of blue energy as the kinetic energy of the human weapons was dissipated and reflected back into space. Meanwhile the space around them swirled with masses of fightercraft, seeking a way to tip the balance once and for all.

All to no avail, as the alien ship now hung with the crippled _Black Lion_, pouring laser fire into the exposed superstructure of the ship. Ominous buds of orange were seen blossoming within the interior of the _White Aerie_, and Valten began to fear the worst.

"Sir, _White Aerie_ is suffering internal damage! Her captain estimates another ten minutes before she blows!"

Valten swore bitterly. The arrival of the new enemy fighters that had drawn away Galietra Binneti's squadron had been the crucial factor. He really needed the ground fire support now, as the movement of the enemy warship had the merchant jumpships scrambling to readjust their own positions. He also did not want to use the explosive lifeboats so soon, but he could see little choice if the present situation continued.

He had lost three more dropships already, while the human fighter forces had been pared down to just three and a half stars remaining, against just slightly more than a hundred left for the enemy fighters, not counting the advanced fighters still slugging it out. If the _White Aerie _was destroyed, it would become nearly impossible for them to destroy the enemy warship.

But there were some good news. From all indications, the ground units had already been formed up and were holding off the enemy drones, but the surface-to-orbit cannons still needed some time to deploy and power up their energy reactors.

"Helm, port turn 60 degrees, and then 50% thrust!" He ordered. "Move between the _White Aerie_ and the enemy warship! Cut the engines once we are in position! All gunners, fire as you bear!"

His choice of maneuver could only prolong the _White Aerie_'s agony, but he would do his best to keep both _Black Lions_ in the game for as long as possible.

_Come on_, his mind urged the ground batteries, _hurry up_.


	34. Dying In The Light

_Orbital Cannon Site A,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

_16th March 3068_

Frank checked his radar screen nervously as his combined forces battalion, designated Battlegroup A, took up defensive positions around the orbital cannon.

The Raiders were short one lance due to Bryan's lance having been assigned to message duty. Descartin Winters and his small unit had taken up the slack, giving them a force of eleven mechs to work with.

Also present were the Death Dancers, a mixed _Partisan_, _Patton_, and _Vedette_ tank company. Having lost a few units during the rescue of the Falcons, the company had been restored back to full strength by the surviving _Brutus_ tanks and SRM missile carriers off the _Nile_, and were now more accurately a reinforced tank company. The tankers covered one flank of the facility, while his mechs guarded the other.

Last but not least was an infantry company, the 5th Firemouths. While Frank didn't think they would be very useful in the battle ahead, they served an important purpose in holding the weapon facility in case of _Spidercrab_ drone attacks. Even better was the fact that one platoon was anti-mech trained, though Frank privately hoped that their skills would not come into use. They held positions in and around the facility itself.

The cannon took the shape of a massive nondescript artillery barrel 15 meters wide and 40 meters long, sticking out into the sky and supported by several huge pylons. Below it was a building that housed a quantum reactor, which would provide the energy required to power the phaser weapon, as well as the machinery for producing the phaser beam itself.

Not only that, but the facility also possessed a directional shield that protected the cannon itself from orbital strikes. However, the protection of the shield did not extend to ground level. Which made ground defense of paramount importance.

Not for the first time, Frank wondered at the intelligence of the alien creators when he found out that they could only start up the power source _after_ the facility had deployed to the surface from its hole underground, and that it would take about ten minutes for them to spool up the engine and get the weapon ready to fire.

_That's so stupid! The whole point of orbital cannons are for them to be ready for firing once they deploy! Not to sit on the ground waiting for enemies to take them out!_ Frank remembered thinking that when he found out about the setup procedure. His opinion had not changed.

"Contact! Bearing two-forty, in a large group of at least ten mechs!" Yoshino called from his _Nobori-Nin_.

Frank was not going to let such a good opportunity to thin the enemy ranks pass him by. "Ten mechs aren't going to get past us. Let's get them!"

The entire company moved into line position, their extended range weapons already seeking targets eagerly.

Frank had swapped out the ultra heavy autocannon in the _Night Gyr_'s right arm for a gauss rifle, exchanging weapons with a Falcon warrior who wanted more short range punch for his _Masakari_. This gave him incredible long range punch when combined with his extended range large lasers.

Settling his sights over an advancing _Smasher_, he waited till he was absolutely sure of his shot before firing at the black mech, which was the SRM version. The large lasers boiled off armor all over the mech's upper body before he followed up with his gauss rifle. The energy capacitors of the weapon went to work, flinging a nickel iron ball the size of a melon into the air. The weakened torso armor did little to stop the gauss slug from penetrating to the interior and setting off the volatile ammunition stored there.

The massive explosion of the _Smasher_'s death seemed to be the signal for the rest of the company to open up. ER PPCs and long range lasers dominated the field, as the human warriors made their range advantage count, hammering at the heavier enemy elements or those variants equipped with LRMs.

It did not take too long. It was a scant thirty seconds before Kety reported the last enemy mech destroyed, a lightweight _Ant_. Frank found himself strangely eager for more enemies to appear over the landscape, a taste for more combat on his tongue.

It was unsettling to him, to say the least.

He quickly checked his map feed, which was constantly updated with information from the main base's sensors. He already knew that there were two enemy groups of at least a fifty mechs each relatively near their position, but they were both in pursuit of other human forces which were trying to flee into the underground tunnels.

That had changed now. Both enemy groups were en route to the orbital cannon, judging by their movements of the last minute. One would be arriving in just two minutes time, while the other had an ETA of thirty minutes.

_Shouldn't be a problem_, Frank thought. _Nine more minutes would have the orbital cannon up and shooting at the enemy warship up there_. They had gunners from the dropship crews assigned to the naval weapons, on the basis that there was not anybody  else truly qualified for such work.

The other battlegroups were also doing quite well. Their sudden appearance had instilled a certain amount of panic in the enemy forces, as they struggled to cope with the wide dispersal of many of their units, spread out over the lands in the course of their fruitless chase of the human soldiers.

Ian Dorlacen and Daniela Mattlov had been assigned to Battlegroup B, another of the ad hoc groups formed when Descartin Winters and him had argued for mixed forces instead of the 'pure' compositions that Lizabet Danforth favored. Having warriors from both sides fight alongside each other would allow a much more homogenous mix of technology and manpower, with the advantage from clan tech and clan expertise being spread out evenly among all the battlegroups.

They were doing all right so far, but the battle upstairs was taking a decided turn for the worst. Frank feared the surface to orbit cannon might be deployed too late.

He was shaken out of his thoughts by the insistent beeping of a small red light to his left, indicating an urgent transmission from the main base. Pressing a button to his console, Frank prepared himself for what he was sure would be bad news, about the only time anyone would bother to send urgent messages.

He was not disappointed.

It was Pascal Thome. "Raider Lead, this is Command! I've got bad news!"

"I sorta figured that one out already." Frank replied sarcastically.

"No! Listen! This is really big trouble! Switch your sensor feed to check for atmospheric aerospace deployment on the planetary map."

Frank did so, and was surprised to see a fast moving blot heading towards them. It stuck out like a sore thumb from the other slow moving blots on the map ."What the heck is that? That's moving too fast for a saucer!"

He suddenly recalled a piece of data from the archives. "No wait, I remember now! That's probably an enemy fast deployment craft, normally used as command ships for the rest of the saucers."

"Right. And it's going to be right on top of you in about 4 minutes. Ally thinks, and we agree, that the fact that it lacks guns and armor could only mean that it's going to be dropping more mechs into your laps, because that's all it's good for."

Frank came to a rather ominous conclusion._ It's also not going to drop them anywhere else because its warship is also hanging right above us! It forces us to deploy the orbital gun, but by doing so, we have also allowed it to dictate the place of battle!_

"What's the expected loadout?" Frank hoped Pascal or Ally would know what mechs the enemy craft was carrying.

"No idea. Just be careful."

"Roger that. Keep an eye on the ship. When it gets near us, inform me ASAP."

"Wilco. Command out."

He switched to the tactical frequency, where he had plugged in his conversation with Pascal. "Everybody heard that?" A series of ayes answered him.

"Now let us concentrate on matters at hand! Mechs incoming!" Descartin yelled as the next group of ninety black mechs appeared on their scopes.

Frank did not take the time to settle into his shot, firing his gauss rifle and lasers simultaneously once the enemy machines came into range. He missed with the gauss, but managed to score with two laser shots on a _Lemming_, melting armor off the left arm and leg.

All around him, there was the dull roar of weapons fire as they flung everything they had at the enemy. PPCs, lasers, missiles and autocannons flashed out, as the first rank of the black mechs reeled from the destructive salvo. Even the tanks had entered the battle, taking up a good spot on the right flank of the enemy advance. They used their ranged weapons to good effect, and managed to draw off part of the enemy mech force, which Frank was extremely grateful for.

The _Partisans _and _Vedettes_ engaged with their autocannons, the cluster rounds from the _Partisan_s bursting among the black mechs, and the _Vedette_s chipping away with their ultra AC/5s. The _Patton_ and _Brutus_ tanks launched swarms of specialized Thunder LRMs into the ground to weaken the enemy advance, sowing a line of explosives and shrapnel along the path of attack.

It did little to halt the black mechs. An _Ant _sprayed its LRMs at him, the missiles blasting off a small fraction of the armor on the _Night Gyr_'s right arm. Frank ignored the hit, trying to identify and kill the heavier and more dangerous enemy mechs first.

There were too many mechs for them to keep at bay, and the black mechs, true to form, came on relentlessly, ignoring the damage they were taking as they closed in. The first ten black mechs went down, but there were more than enough left as they reached the limits of their own weapon ranges.

_The fact that we are defending a mole on the plains means that we can't use run and gun tactics! _Frank realized._ We have to hold a fixed defense line, and we can't budge because they're heading straight for the orbital cannon!_

Ally had already informed of the risks in using the cannons. Should the enemy manage to infiltrate their drones, namely the _Spidercrabs_, into the equipment, they would be able to override the commands from the base and even take over the base functions, most importantly the gate controls. And all would be lost if they ever managed to open the gates.

Both sides exchanged fire furiously, the black mechs making up for their lower accuracy with their greater volume. Napoleon, as usual, was as instructive as ever when he said that "quantity has a quality of its own". Another one of his understatements.

And that same 'quality' was working against the humans, as they gave up ground grudgingly to avoid the murderous short range firepower of the black mechs, which seemed to have mainly SRM and laser equipped mech variants in their midst.

Frank triggered another salvo of laser fire as he walked the _Night Gyr_ backwards, this time savaging armor on a _Bruiser_, which absorbed the laser energy easily and was moving forward ominously.

He could spot the numerous missile racks all over the mech, and he knew that it was likely to be either the LRM or the SRM boat version. He did not want to be on the receiving end of either missile system, but he knew there was not much choice as it launched a total of 60 LRMs at him.

He braced himself, gripping his joysticks tightly as the swarm of missiles crashed into the _Night Gyr_, blanking out even his HUD as they came in hard. The impact of more than thirty missiles threatened to unbalance the mech, and Frank had to flail the arms of his mech around for a while before he got it under control.

He snarled in anger, and about to reply with his gauss rifle when a volley of particles whipped into the center torso of the assault class _Bruiser_, killing the controlling algorithmic system in there and neutralizing the mech.

"Frank, you all right?" Deserk asked as his _Black Hawk_ continued pummeling the enemy mechs with laser blasts from the his extended range lasers.

"Yeah. Gave me a good shaking, but I'll live. We have to put more space between us and them!"

"No way. We are almost backing into the facility already."

Frank checked his screens, and found that Deserk was right. The orbital cannon was only three hundred meters behind them, and only a kilometer and his battlegroup separated the cannon and the black mechs.

They had destroyed about more than twenty drone mechs so far, but they had taken quite a lot of damage as well. And the approaching drone ship meant that he wouldn't have any reserves left if more enemy mechs appeared. _CLG is going to be a killer_, Frank thought.

His headset crackled again. "Raider Lead, this is Command. The enemy ship has reached your position and is deploying its units!"

_The machine intelligence was elated at the success of its plan._

_The imminent destruction of one of the opposing warships meant that the one remaining would have no chance of victory, while the super-assault mechs it had deployed meant that it would soon have possession of the Qlictorio base._

_The defending flesh beings were fighting tenaciously, but they were having a difficult time with the drones already present, and were in no position to oppose the thirty mechs that were dropping right now from its bays on the other side of the facility._

_A group of flesh beings were situated in the orbital cannon facility itself, but they were hardly a threat for the firepower of the mechs, nor the Spidercrabs they carried._

_Victory was at hand!_

Descartin Winters narrowed his eyes as he heard Pascal's report. His _Nova Cat_ had already taken quite a lot of abuse, with his limb armor almost in tatters, and his torso not much better in protection. Some LRM fire had hit his cockpit, and blood was now streaming down one of his legs. It was not very painful, but Descartin knew that wounds tend to add up. This rule applied to both humans and mechs.

"Dancers, send the _Vedettes _over to slow those mechs down!" Frank was issuing orders, trying to wrest back the initiative lost. However, in Descartin's mind, they had lost the initiative ever since the enemy had first boiled out of the seas to attack the unsuspecting humans.

The lance of tracked vehicles sped off to their rear, where the new enemy force was landing on the other side of the facility. Descartin kept a cautious eye on them as he continued pounding away at the enemy mechs in front of him.

Another _Bruiser _stride forward, the fearful crack of its twin rail guns audible as it fired at his _Nova Cat_. One slug hammered into his left leg, laying the internal structure bare to further attacks, while the other just missed his cockpit by inches.

His sure hand smoothly recovered the _Nova Cat _from the strike, and he repaid the damage with interest as he fired all his long range weapons into the middle of the _Bruiser_. The targeting computer was an invaluable tool as it gave him incredible firing solutions for his shots. Already considered one of the best gunners in clan space, Des' unerring accuracy coupled with the targeting computer gave him the ability to place a shot almost anywhere he wanted on the enemy.

The _Bruiser_ staggered as its gyro was hit, then collapsed as Kety followed up with his _Gallowglas_' own PPC and large lasers, one of his shots entering the middle and finishing the job Des had started.

"Thanks for the help!" Descartin shouted gratefully, as Kety replied with a wave of his mech's left hand.

A shriek of despair suddenly overrode all other concerns. "This is Dancer Vee-One, we are pulling back! I have never seen the likes of those. I've already lost two tanks at extreme range, and they.. Oh God… Help!" The transmission was cut off.

Des quickly switched to his rear view, and he saw a swarm of LRMs descend on the two retreating _Vedette_s. That was not shocking, but the fact that every single missile landed on target did. _Streak missiles, but LRM versions_, his mind informed him dispassionately.

Des felt a sudden coldness grip his body, all the way to his bones. He instantly knew he was going to die this day, and that the purpose of his whole life might been to bring him to this one battle, one in which he had no chance of living through, one in which the fate of humanity was at stake. It was something that every clansman dreamed of, a glorious fight against impossible odds, a chance at immortality in legend and song.

Still, he wondered if he had somehow accrued a lot of bad karma in a past life which was now responsible for his present predicament.

He turned his _Nova Cat _around, and started moving towards the approaching black mechs, all of which are showing up on his tremor sensors as being a hundred tons.

Thirty hundred ton mechs, all with advanced technology.

As he moved, he noticed Deserk in his _Black Hawk_ beside him. Apparently, Deserk had the exact same idea as him. Des considered asking the Wolf Dragoon to turn back, but he knew that it was Deserk's individual decision, and could only respect it as a fellow warrior.

Maybe he had already foreseen this scene in his visions.

"It is a good day to die, quiaff?" Des asked his sibmate.

"Aff." The reply came. "Truly a good day."

Frank tried to ignore the fear bubbling up from his guts to his heart, as well as the vomit that he could feel was on the way to his mouth in his esophagus.

Pascal was giving him some very bad news. "The specs say that each of these mechs pack two advanced particle cannons, a big fucking autocannon that we have no equivalent for, and something like streak LRMs!"

"In other words?" Frank asked.

"You guys are dead meat! Pull back now, we can try again later!"

"There is no later!" Frank yelled, "The Falcons are dying in droves up there, and we are too heavily engaged to retreat! Damn it! Send me all the reserves ASAP!"

"Gotcha! They're already on the way, one company of mixed troops. ETA is ten minutes!"

_We'll be lucky if we can hold out for another two!_ Frank cursed as he sent a gauss slug at an _Ant_, shattering its torso armor and dumping the drone on the ground.

Then he saw Deserk and Descartin Winters moving to their rear in their mechs

"Hey, what are you doing?" Frank didn't want to think that the two had lost their nerve and were abandoning their comrades. He did not realize the alternative.

"Take out the black mechs in front of you first. We'll try to delay the new force behind you for as long as possible." Deserk answered.

_Huh, only two of them against thirty?_

"But there's only two of you!" Frank wailed.

"Don't argue with us! Just do as he says!" Des yelled back.

"You won't last long!" Kety entered the running argument as the battle raged around them.

Frank saw Deserk's _Black Hawk_ continuing to charge forward at the newcomers as the Dragoon replied. "We don't have to! Just long enough for the cannon to work! And Kety…"

"Yeah?"

"When you get back to Outreach, tell Reena… Tell Reena I'm sorry." There was pain and regret in Deserk's voice.

That meant only one thing to everybody listening.

Deserk had no intention of surviving this fight. Frank figured the same went for Descartin Winters.

He decided to try one last time. "Don't do this! There's always another way!"

Winters answered this time. "There is no other way, no other choice. You know how this is going to turn out. Now concentrate on your own battle!"

Another salvo of enemy fire brought Frank's attention back to the fight before him as a _Lemming _fired its medium autocannon at him, the shells tearing into his mech. He sent three laser beams at the drone, one of them hitting it squarely in the chest while the other two missed miserably. Large goblets of armor ran down the drone's chest as it moved forward.

Frank chanced a quick look back at their rear, where the brilliant flashes of light indicated a fight in full swing. He hoped that they would be able to hold off the enemy force, but common sense and logic dictated that it was doomed to failure.

Frank turned his attention to the front in time to dodge another salvo of autocannon fire from the _Lemming _by jumping his mech into the air. Rising up on jets of fusion flame, Frank plugged away with his pulse lasers, this time connecting with both shots to the right torso of the mech. The _Lemming_ seemed to ignore him, and moved closer to the facility.

As he landed, he realized that the black mechs were beginning to penetrate their lines, and the battle was fast becoming a melee, with the humans pitched desperately against almost three times their number in enemies, now approaching point blank ranges.

The headset crackled to life. "Raider Lead, this is Cannon One. I am now operative and angling for a shot!"

Frank wanted to cheer as he heard the report. The sooner they could destroy the enemy warship in space, the sooner they could retract the cannon facility and pull back.

The cannon erupted with a roar as it unleashed a bolt into the heavens, the immense disrupter blast shooting up into the sky in a purple flash. Frank waited anxiously for the result.

"Sorry, I missed! Another minute before the next shot!" The former dropship gunner reported.

Frank wanted to rail at the missed opportunity, but the damn _Lemming_ was firing at him again, this time with its machine guns added to the mix. Frank ignored the damage to his mech, and fired his gauss and pulse lasers. The gauss punched through the middle of the _Lemming_, while one pulse laser did its part by hitting the same location, while the other missed. It was enough to destroy the drone, its legs telescoping into the empty torso.

"Frank, there's something screwy with my systems!" Frank could sense the fear in Kety's voice.

"What's wrong?" Frank felt they already have enough trouble holding off the enemy mechs. If Kety's _Gallowglas_ was having problems, then it would make one of his best warriors much less effective on the field.

"I'm not picking up either Des or Deserk on my targeting scopes, and _they're not dead yet_!"

"As long as you can still target the drones, it's alright!" Frank tried to push the problem out of his mind.

Frank twisted his mech's torso around to fire at a _Smasher _that had pushed past the line, and took the opportunity to check on Des and Deserk's status.

He was amazed to see the two warriors among the massive black hulks, dancing away with unbelievable ease from the enemy attacks, consisting of particle beams, autocannon, and missile fire. Even so, there was no reason why out of more than fifty weapons firing on them, _not a single weapon hit_!

Frank tried to ignore the growing queasy feeling in his mind, because his targeting cursor had refused to acquire the _Nova Cat_ and _Black Hawk_ as targets as well. He knew his systems were fully functional, because he was having no trouble shooting at the black mechs, but nothing else could possibly explain what he was seeing.

Descartin's _Nova Cat_ savaged the mechs around it, particularly those nearest the facility. His PPCs and lasers flashed out as he consistently hit the rear of the black mechs, setting off their ammunition stores and removing their most deadly weapon, the super heavy autocannon.

Deserk's _Black Hawk _was equally potent, using the same tactics as Descartin, as they not only managed to survive the attacks of the black mechs, but were actually defeating the enemy!

Frank easily recognized their strategy. By taking their mechs into the middle of the enemy formation, the enemy mechs could not afford to get to the facility without exposing their rear armor to Des and Deserk. And with his part of the battle now taking place around the cannon facility, the enemy mechs could not walk to the facility with their backs to the orbital cannon either. So they stuck to trying to remove the two nuisances in their midst before advancing on the facility, which nevertheless didn't quite explain how Des and Deserk were still in the land of the living.

He decided not to communicate with the two warriors, afraid of breaking their concentration. As Frank looked around, all he saw was a tableau of hell as the battle regressed to a brutal knife fight.

At least five black mechs had reached the facility, and were under fire from the infantry troops. SRM and man-pack PPC fire could be seen streaking from the facility and impacting on the black mechs, as tiny figures darted through the structures.

The turret of a _Patton_ tank locked up as it was hit by a storm of SRMs from a _Smasher_, the crew electing to stay in the tank as they tried to shift the tank around to shoot at the _Smasher_. Another burst of large laser fire from a _Bruiser_ into the tank consigned it to a fiery death.

Kety's _Gallowglas _grappled with a _Lemming_, using the almost bare left arm and hand to punch viciously into the head of the drone, then wrenching the mech carcass around to shield his own mech from a deadly fusillade of missiles from a trio of _Ants_. A few SRMs still got through, tearing into the torso armor and rupturing precious heat sinks, as coolant fluid leaked down the sides of the _Gallowglas_.

A _Partisan _tank, seemingly out of ammunition, charged at a _Lemming _as the drone fired its own array of medium lasers. The laser blasts carved into the engine of the tank, and it exploded while still in movement. The momentum of the tank continued to carry the wreckage of the tank forward as it smashed into the _Lemming_ in revenge for its death. The _Lemming _flopped over as its legs were hit, and crumpled to the ground.

A squad of anti-mech infantry launched their grapple rods onto a _Lemming_, and proceeded to carry out a dangerous crippling action. Another _Lemming_ walked up and ran its machine guns over the frail bodies of the human attackers as they clung onto their target, even as they accomplished their job by planting their explosives among the vulnerable exhaust vents and joints of the mech. Their bodies fell to the ground as multiple explosions wracked the _Lemming_.

Frank saw Qing Hong Liu punch out of his crippled and burning _Thor_, as two _Bruisers _closed in, unleashing heavy salvos of gauss and SRM fire. Tracers pierced the air towards the ejection seat, as an _Ant_ sought to kill Qing with its machine guns before Frank shattered it with several laser blasts.

_Spidercrabs _scuttled all over the ground, as they tried to connect into the facility systems, opposed by the men of the 5th Firemouths. The chatter of small arms fire could be heard as Frank moved his _Night Gyr _nearer the structure in pursuit of one of the _Bruisers _that had destroyed Qing's _Thor_. The assault mech was unloading its load of _Spidercrab_ drones, dumping them out of its cockpit in a rain of black metal to the ground.

It turned around at Frank's approach, and the two mechs faced off and fired at the same time.

48 SRMs erupted from the many missile ports on the mech, almost half of them slamming into the _Night Gyr_. A spike of heat in his cockpit and the gout of smoke that appeared before his HUD rising from his center torso warned him of engine damage, while the sluggish movement of the mech told him of damage to his leg actuators. The indicators for two of the large lasers in his left torso flashed amber, then red as they warned of the weapons' destruction. The mech rocked from side to side as the missiles did their work, as Frank struggled to keep his mech upright even as he fired back with his full arsenal of weapons.

His remaining large laser blazed out a trail of photons to the right arm of the mech, while the gauss rifle spat out a metal ball towards right torso. His medium pulse lasers stammered a line of emerald darts into the right torso, penetrating into the ammo bins. The _Bruiser_ convulsed as its armor began to warp from the tremendous force generated from within the mech as the SRM ammo blew. The pent up energy was released in a brilliant glare of yellow flame, as the _Bruiser_ was totally consumed by the explosion.

Frank jumped the _Night Gyr_ to his right as a volley of LRMs slammed into the ground he had just vacated. As he landed, he discharged another salvo of laser fire at the unit that had fired, a _Smasher_ LRM variant. The lasers melted armor over the mech's right leg, but failed to hurt its internals.

_We can't carry on like this for much longer_, Frank thought as he tried to line up another shot for the last of his gauss slugs.

_The machine intelligence was frustrated by the inability of its overwhelming forces to take control of the facility. Even the most advanced drones were unable to remove the two enemy machines that were amongst them wrecking havoc._

_The machine intelligence could not understand why its drones were simply unable to target the two mechs, or why their weapons kept missing._

_Even the force that had reached the cannon facility was having a difficult time wading through the dogged defenders. The unprotected flesh beings on foot were even able to destroy drone machines by climbing onto the drones and placing simple explosives at vulnerable locations, something which the Qlictorio, who insisted on using only high technology weapons and vehicles in combat, would never have done!_

_The machine intelligence knew that it needed something to end the fight soon. The surface-to-orbit cannon was simply too dangerous, and its previous shot had come perilously close to hitting the warship. One hit from the ground battery would knock the shields out of commission immediately, leaving it highly susceptible to the weapons of the enemy warships. The flesh beings had been very cunning, using remote controlled personnel boats filled with explosives to delay its warship's assault on the dying enemy warship for a few precious moments, by forcing it to devote more of its energy to shoring up its shields. Victory was still within reach, however, provided the ground cannon did not hit the cruiser, and the best way to ensure that was to capture it._

_There was one way to assume full control of the ground facility, and that was to remove the two nuisances to allow the super assault drones to get to the facility, where they could overwhelm the flesh beings there._

_The machine intelligence instantly came up with two possible options for destroying the two mechs. One was to employ its advanced fighters to strafe the area. The fighters were tied up solidly with the human advanced fighters, and could not disengage._

_The other was to use its warship to bombard the area, which guaranteed the destruction of the flesh beings in the area. While its own drones would also be hit, the machine intelligence calculated that they would be able to withstand the barrage, leaving them able to press on to the facility and claim possession of it._

_Getting the warship to move into position to bombard the area was not a problem, as the space forces of the flesh beings were in no shape to obstruct it. The only risk was in hitting the facility and possibly destroying it, but the shield directly above the facility itself rendered protection against orbital strikes, thereby removing the dangers of a miss._

_Even if the warship was hit by the ground battery as it bombarded the area, the machine intelligence gauged that the imminent capture of the Qlictorio base would more than make up for the loss of the warship, which was by no means certain as the flesh beings still needed quite a few shots to destroy it even without its shields._

_The machine intelligence made its decision easily. The warship began moving nearer the planet._

"What is the stravag enemy doing?" Valten Folkner asked as he observed it abandoning its final attack on the crippled and burning _White Aerie_ to move closer to the planet below.

The _White Aerie _had stopped firing its weapons, and its commanding officer had ordered all his personnel to their escape pods and lifeboats, which were woefully low in number after Valten had used them in a futile attempt to damage the drone warship.

Blooms of flame could be seen burning along the scarred and torn surface of the once powerful _Black Lion_. Pieces of twisted armor, chunks of shattered Harjel, charred structural members, and other flotsam were slowly breaking off from the stricken warship. White clouds of water crystals were spewing from gaps in the structure, originating from the personnel quarters. Electrical sparks crackled from severed power lines, their blue arcs wildly playing on the shattered hull.

The death throes of a warship, after more than three hundred years of existence. It had survived Kerensky's war against the Periphery, his campaign in the Terran Hegemony, the liberation of Terra. Later, it had followed him on his long journey from the Inner Sphere, along the Exodus road, leading to civil war and the formation of the clans. It had survived Trial after Trial, but who have known that it would finally meet its end around a forgotten world in the Periphery?

The _Blue Aerie_ was firing its long range weapons for all they were worth, but to little effect. The enemy warship was moving away too quickly for the gunners to get a proper targeting lock. Adding to their problems was the fact that the enemy shields were simply too strong for the naval autocannons to take down.

Meanwhile, his XO answered his earlier question, "The enemy warship is heading for the planet. It seems to be going for a lower orbit. My best guess is that they are going for orbital bombardment."

That had already occurred to Valten even before the officer had voiced the thought. "Can the engineers give me more thrust to intercept it?"

The XO paused for a while, turning away to speak into his headphone before replying. "Neg, our engines are not fast enough."

"And the status of the _White Aerie_?"

"Star Commodore Creske Von Jankmon reports that his ship has lost all his weapons, but his engines are still capable of 30% thrust. He has ordered a ramming attack on the enemy warship once most of his crew has departed the ship."

"Good." Valten growled. At least the _White Aerie_ was still useful for one last attack.

The previous miss from the only ground battery that was able to target the enemy warship had been a disappointment, but Valten had almost half-expected it. The gunners on the ground were only freebirth surats, after all, not the selectively bred and trained naval dropship crews of the clans. However, he had no choice but to rely on their dubious assistance.

Star Commander Galietra Binneti and his _Seraph_s were still exchanging blows with the enemy fighters, while the run-of-the-mill human fighters were down to only a star left against the thirty enemy fighters remaining.

Most of his dropships were dead in space from accumulated damage, while the jumpships were still angling for a clear shot, hindered by the constant motion of the enemy warship as they tried to rotate in space with their thrusters that were meant only for station-keeping.

There was no other choice, but to hope that the _White Aerie's _final attack would open a window of opportunity for the remaining warriors in space, while he had little hope for the ground forces that were about to suffer one of the most horrendous attacks known to humankind in war, the orbital bombardment.

Galietra Binneti jerked his HOTAS hard to his left, sending the _Seraph_ into a rapid counterclockwise roll, dodging the phaser blasts from the enemy fighter on his tail.

He bounced the _Seraph_ down for a while before coming up and around in an Immelmann, challenging his pursuer to a full frontal assault. The two fighters faced each other in a head on pass for less than a second, and Gal fired his full load of guns and missiles as they passed within less than a kilometer from each other.

One of his phasers, two of his mass drivers, and about half his missiles missed, but they still managed to overcome the shields, the missiles shaving away all of the frontal armor before his plasma slicers cut deep into the innards of the fighter, the beams stabbing vulnerable components and control systems. The enemy fighter spun around crazily as it burned into the atmosphere, its interface and defense mechanisms shot away. It would fall apart as it fell to the ground.

He did not emerge unscathed either. His shields, except for one covering his rear, were all down after that exchange, the enemy phasers shoving them aside and even damaging the neutronium armor. A quick glance at his console displays confirmed that he had only fifty percent armor protection left for his nose and wing sections.

There were only twelve enemy fighters left, and ten _Seraph_s to oppose them. Trixie had punched out after her _Seraph_ got involved in one too many scissors with the enemy, her escape pod last seen dropping onto the planet below.

That was fine by Galietra. He was good enough to fight without a wingman.

Two enemy ships flashed past his HUD, in pursuit of a _Seraph_ that was jinking and swerving desperately to avoid the enemy fire. Gal turned his own _Seraph_ to follow them, unleashing a swarm of missiles at one of the fighters as he did so.

The friendly _Seraph_ slowed down, giving the enemy fighters the choice of staying on his tail and taking him down, but offering Gal the chance to open up on both enemies. Of course, they could always break away from their pursuit, but their target would survive.

They stayed on its tail.

_That is why it is considered a gamble_, Gal reminded himself as he tightened on his triggers, sending a salvo of missiles and azure beams towards his targets even as they pounded away at Hank Cashew's _Seraph_, Hank's rear shields flaring with energy discharges as they sought to dissipate the deadly energies from the enemy drones.

His missiles smashed into the rear thrusters of one drone, resulting in a brilliant explosion as its quantum engine unleashed its full potential in an instant. His beams lit up the shields of the other drone, but its shields held up under the assault. The drone did break away from its pursuit of Hank's _Seraph_, which had just a few ergs of shield power left.

"Thanks for the assist!" Hank grunted to him.

"Thanks for the kill." Gal replied grimly as he spied another drone slipping in behind him even as he continued chasing the surviving fighter. It fired at him with a steady steam of plasma bolts.

Galietra allowed his shields to do their job as he worked his way into his prey with plasma slicers and mass drivers. He stayed on his opponent for twenty painstaking seconds before it exploded under his fusillade of fire, topped off by his last rack of missiles to hasten its death.

He cut away down and left from his pursuer just as his rear shields gave way. It turned to continue its attack, but Peggy's fighter cut into its flank at the same time, destroying it with an alpha strike of plasma beams, mass drivers, phasers, and missiles.

Gal took advantage of the short respite to assess the overall situation.

The enemy warship was moving closer to the planet, while the _White Aerie _was moving ominously with literally fire in its belly towards the enemy warship, picking up speed that Gal was sure would send it hurtling into the planetary atmosphere.

Suddenly, he saw a series of brilliant flashes from side of the enemy warship, as massive energy blasts flew towards the unsuspecting planet below. An unimpressive display for the uninitiated, but Gal knew better.

His blood ran cold as he realized he was watching an orbital bombardment in progress.

Spreading the left arm of his _Night Gyr_ all the way out to his left, Frank tried to balance and compensate for the loss of all the remaining armor on the arm, as a gauss _Bruiser _hammered at him with its weapons.

He struck back with his large and medium lasers, but all they did was to scratch the paint of the heavily armored shell of the drone. A series of energy blasts from the side unexpectedly hit its legs, unbalancing the mech and toppling it to the ground.

Kety's battered _Gallowglas_ limped into view, maintaining the barrage with his medium pulse lasers, as he ripped at the _Bruiser_, the barrels stuttering out the energy darts as he tried to keep them on target on the legs, in an attempt to cripple the assault mech.

Frank added to the damage wrought with his laser weaponry, but the _Bruiser_ still managed to lever one arm off the ground to fire a gauss slug at him.

The slug punched into the right arm of his mech, crushing all the armor left on that limb as it went further in.

Without warning, a sharp pain lanced through Frank's head as his gauss rifle was destroyed, and hot tears stung his eyes as he lost all sense of his surroundings. All he knew was the terrible pain in his head, his mind, his brain, as he struggled to maintain his grip on his sanity and consciousness.

He felt like smashing his head against something, anything, to clear it of the hot knives sticking in his head, and he did so against the handiest target, the control console and displays in front of him, his upper torso bending over with the neurohelmet as he tried to remove the agonizing sensation by head butting the console several times.

That did not to help alleviate the pain, but it did help him claw back some of his mental faculties as the pain gradually receded. He blinked his eyes slowly to clear away the tears, trying to avoid the tiny stabs of pain whenever he made a sudden motion with any moving part of his body.

The first thing that came to him was the incessant roar of the battle raging around him. It took him a while before he realized that somebody was calling him over his headset.

"Raider Lead, please reply! You mech is not moving!" It was Kety.

"I… I'm okay, I'm okay," Frank stammered out, hoping his voice did not sound too shaky as he slowly tried to organize his scattered thoughts. It was like trying to catch butterflies with his bare hands instead of using a net.

"What's going on?" Frank asked, looking out through bleary, watery eyes.

"Quite a few enemies left, and that's not counting the ones still engaging Deserk and Des. We should be able to hold those here off, but we'll be ready for the scrap heap after that, provided a miracle happens and we don't have to fight those damn advanced drones."

"Reinforcements are on the way. We just have to hold out long enough!" Frank said as he took hold of his control joysticks with his hands.

"Roger that. Here they come again."

Kety was right, as Frank checked his screens. They were finally finishing off the last few drones near the base, while Des and Deserk were still waging their own private war with the advanced drones.

And they _still _did not show up on his stupid radar and mech sensors. It was only by using his own eyes that he was able to verify that their presence in the fight.

Feeling a blocked sensation in his nose, Frank blew out through his nose hard. He was surprised to see a large splatter of red blood fly out onto his chin plate and the displays. The metallic, salty taste of blood on his lips and tongue further gave evidence of his massive nosebleed caused by the enormous electrical discharge and damage feedback from the ruin of the gauss rifle capacitors. Even his ears felt wet, which indicated bleeding from his ears as well. He hoped it wasn't too serious.

Frank stomped hard on his foot pedals, sending the _Night Gyr _flying through the air and landing behind a _Smasher _that was tearing off the last few pieces of armor off Tim's shattered _Cauldron-Born._

Frank snarled through his pain, tears and blood, and fired all his remaining guns. His medium pulse lasers stammered into the rear armor of the drone, while the extended range lasers, one medium and one large, carved deep into the engine, shutting it down as the containment material was utterly melted away.

By now most of the attacking drones had been disabled or neutralized, but likewise, Frank could count only five mechs and three vehicles left on the field. Out of a hundred infantry troopers, he could see only about twenty left, deployed into one makeshift platoon.

He turned around to face the advanced drones, to employ his sole ER large laser against them, just in time to see the heavens open up with blinding light.

The bolt from the sky slammed onto the plains like the hand of an angry deity, pressing its terrible weight against the mechs battling there. An advanced drone simply fell apart under the ravening hell of the naval grade weapon, vaporized into nothingness.

Frank fought down the bile in his throat, as he tried to watch out for the two warriors who were caught in the orbital bombardment. The radio was overrun with chatter, as this latest debacle threatened to break the troops' already tenuous hold on their morale and spirits.

"Stay close to the facility!" Frank yelled as he remembered the shield over the ground battery. "Stick to within fifty meters of the ground gun, and the shield above will protect us!"

But that still left Deserk and Descartin Winters exposed to the warship above.

_Get out, dammit, get out!_ Frank willed the two to take shelter under the shield, but he also knew, deep down, that they would never do so.

He glanced at his screen. _Reinforcements arriving in just one more minute. Hold on, we have to hold on!_

Kily Gonzalez sprinted his _Wolfhound_ to the top of a hill, as he followed Bryan's _Fenris_, who was leading the way.

They had finished their last assignment, and were heading towards the nearest battle site, without any black mechs chasing them, which Bryan had said was due to their focus on the fleeing groups and the ground battery sites.

The bright blast of light from the skies a moment ago had been a real shock, and they had pushed their mechs to their utmost to get to the ongoing battle. Kily feared the worst, but he kept silent. And so did everybody else.

As his _Wolfhound_ crested the hilltop, Kily was struck by a scene literally from hell itself.

Fires burned everywhere, while battlemechs, torn and bleeding from busted heat sinks, milled around near the ground cannon facility, pausing now and then to get a shot off in the direction of one of the most awesome sights Kily had even seen.

Two human mechs were among the midst of more than ten hulking assault mechs, each enemy drone packed with missile racks and a honking big autocannon. And more than that, the two mechs were holding off the their opponents.

For some strange reason, his sensors couldn't tell him about the damage on the two mechs, a _Black Hawk_ and a _Nova Cat_, but he could tell with his eyes alone that they were badly mangled, probably from the orbital strike. But the drone mechs were still missing at practically point blank ranges!

"Move forward! We're going to support them!" Bryan ordered.

"Are you nuts?" Patrice protested. "Did you see the combined enemy tonnage out there? And that's even before the blast God knows where from above our heads!"

"I know, I know, but we have to move forward just to draw away some of their attention. Lee, jump your _Spider _in among them, maybe we can get them to friendly fire on each other, since they don't seem to be able to target Des and Deserk either. As for the rest of you, SOP, engage at range."

Kily personally thought that was a rather hopeful plan, but Lee's _Spider_ did start pumping its thin and spindly legs down to the brawl below, while the other members of the lance sniped away with PPCs and laser fire.

Switching over to the battlegroup frequency, Kily heard Frank's voice.

"Deserk, get out of there! Your mechs can't take another orbital strike! Reinforcements are on the way, we can take them as a group now!"

"Neg, neg!" Des replied, breathless with pain. "If we go now, they will still be able to hit you at long range with those missiles and PPCs. And the warship has to go to low orbit for bombardment, which gives the ground battery a better chance of hitting it. Make it count!"

"You're right, my old sibmate," Deserk cut in, "but you forgot one thing."

Deserk continued in a low tone. "Only _one_ of us is needed here to hold their attention."

Kily watched in amazement as the _Black Hawk_ suddenly turned its guns on the _Nova Cat_, eviscerating it with a well placed PPC blast into the center torso.

"What are you mean? No, freebirth! Don't do this to me…" Winters' shout trailed off.

The _Nova Cat _died as its engine exploded in a release of plasma, but the cockpit did split open as a small ejection seat flew up and out in a release of fire from the doomed mech. The seat flew to its apex before deploying its parachute as it drifted slowly to the ground.

Bryan did not hesitate, "Lee, get that ejection seat!" And he spoke in a somber voice, "Deserk, your name will appear in the Remembrance. This I swear!"

The _Spider_ leapt into the air, propelled on jets of fusion flame, snagging the ejection pod easily by grabbing the parafoils with its hands. It landed and started sprinting the moment it hit the ground, as Lee managed to avoid the rain of fire targeting him with some expert evasion moves.

For their part, the other warriors peppered the enemy with long range fire, disrupting the attacks of the enemy as Lee tried to get to the safety of the umbrella shield over the facility.

"Flash, flash!" The ground battery gunner warned as the skies surged open with light once again.

The blast landed squarely on Deserk's dying _Black Hawk_. Kily found himself screaming with rage as the mech blew apart in a ball of crimson fire, as it was joined by several black mechs around it, as they died in sympathetic detonations. There was no ejection, and it would have been useless anyway, with the strobing laser blasts playing over the field for several seconds, ensuring the death of anybody caught in its deadly embrace.

Kily realized he wasn't alone in his anger, as the entire human force had advanced to the limits of the shield and started firing everything they had left at the enemy drone force.

The ground battery finally replied to the fire from heaven, sending up its own disrupter bolt. But Kily paid it no heed, even as his radar signaled the entry of their reserves. All he wanted was to see the enemy stomped and dead under the feet of his _Wolfhound_.

Galietra Binneti had teamed up with Hank Cashew, taking apart the last advanced enemy drone fighter with tandem plasma slicers and phaser shots. The enemy aerospace fighter broke apart under their barrage, splintering into a thousand pieces of tiny wreckage divided by a series of explosions.

It was the hardest, most grueling battle he had ever fought in. Out of the thirty _Seraph_s they had started out with, there were only five left. The other three fighters had been sent to help mop up the remaining enemy drones that were less advanced, but nevertheless still causing problems for the clan flyers.

"Commencing torpedo run," Gal signaled Hank.

"Roger. Covering your ass." The Inner Sphere pilot took up the eight o'clock position with respect to Gal.

Pilot, not freebirth. Gal had seen their prowess and determination for himself, and they were every bit as deserving of the term of warrior and pilot as any clansman. He would never again talk of the warriors of the Inner Sphere in disparaging terms again.

Lining up his fighter with the enemy warship, Gal saw the _White Aerie_ charging towards the enemy warship, intent on mutual destruction, even as it fired another salvo of beams towards the planet. Another few blasts whipped out to strike the _White Aerie_, smashing into the bridge section, but the warship stayed on its course towards the enemy drone warship.

The enemy warship seemed to realize the _Black Lion_'s intentions only at the last moment, and it tried to move out of the way. It was too late, but just enough however, as the _White Aerie _dealt it a glancing blow amidships before it veered off into the planetary atmosphere, a burning hulk of metal and polymer.

The enemy warship's shields flared and flickered dangerously as it tried to absorb the massive amounts of kinetic energy from the impact. Gal could read from his sensors that the shields failing, and that another few naval grade shots would bring it down totally.

And one promptly arrived from the surface of the planet, from the ground battery. The disrupter bolt splayed all over the shields, bringing them down to less than 3% left.

The one-two punch was followed by Valten Folkner's order over the open frequency.

"All jumpships, fire!"

The thrust exhaust of the jumpships ignited with light, sending a long invisible stream of hydrogen ions towards the tottering drone warship, which was trying desperately to restore its shields. They flogged the warship relentlessly, squashing aside the last of the energy shield.

Gal saw his displays for the torpedo lock glow green, signifying that the torpedo could be fired. He promptly mashed the trigger with a vengeance, sending the long projectile on its way.

He had asked Lorik about the contents of the torpedo warhead, but all the scientist would say was that it was not nuclear, since to use a nuclear weapon runs counter to the beliefs of the clans. As the warhead punched into the enemy warship in a brilliant glare of energy, even brighter than any nuclear blast, Gal realized from his energy readings that Lorik had told him the complete truth. The warhead was not nuclear, fission, fusion, or otherwise.

It could only be antimatter. From the sheer surge of energy, several magnitudes greater than even the largest atomic device. Nothing was left of the enemy warship.

As he flew the fighter in triumph over the _Blue Aerie_, Valten Folkner contacted him.

"Star Commander, proceed to Orbital Cannon Site A to provide close air support. Their lines are about to collapse! I will take care of the enemy AI. Personally." It was a promise.

"Aff, Star Commodore!" Along with the last few fighters in space, he swooped into the planet's atmosphere. It was, he was sure, the very last chapter in their epic campaign.

The remaining thirteen advanced drones lumbered on, finally free of their tormentors. Many were damaged, but they were still more than sufficient to crush the defenders.

Frank tried to keep his body from shaking as he fired his remaining large laser in despair, trying just to slow, not halt their advance. Bryan's lance had placed themselves to the rear of the enemy, firing with little effect on their back armor.

He was afraid, but he could still feel his rage from their callous destruction of Deserk's _Black Hawk_. He knew they were drones, machines, incapable of emotion, but that did not lessen his fury any. In fact, that was the only thing still holding him on the field, fighting with his measly weaponry.

Deserk had been a good friend, a good man. It didn't matter that he was a clanner, or that he was once a Nova Cat. He had stuck by Frank when he had just been pushed into the role of commander, mentoring Frank in the real life practicalities of leadership. And if it wasn't for Deserk, Frank doubted they would have gotten Descartin Winters and his Scorpions over to their side as easily.

The roar of an autocannon announced the arrival of their reinforcements, as a _Musketeer_ hovertank engaged with its RAC/5, followed by the thump-thump of a _Fafnir_'s dual heavy gauss rifles. The shells all crashed into a drone, shattering the armor on one side as it turned to oppose this new threat.

The added supporting units came in from their left, smashing into the flank of the drones. Frank was gratified to see that his plan of putting some of their best units in reserve had paid off. Many of the lone operators, for some reason or another, were equipped with cutting edge technology mechs and vehicles.

A huge _Sagittaire_ lit up the battlefield with its jumpjets as it closed within range of its pulse lasers, braving the storm of autocannon fire from its enemy as it carved the advanced drone apart with its pulse lasers backed by a Federated Suns targeting computer.

A _Manteuffel_ attack omnitank dueled with a drone, its super heavy ultra autocannon gouging gaping holes into the legs of a drone even as it weathered two ER PPC blasts to its front.

The drones counterattacked hard, but the new units managed to hold and even take down three more drones in their initial assault.

A scream from the sky heralded the return of their _Seraph_s, as they flew down like avenging angels, scouring the drones with plasma slicers, mass driver blasts, and phaser beams.

The drones suddenly hesitated, not knowing what to do. Frank checked his sensors, and realized that was because the drone command ship had just been wiped out by a volley of naval autocannon fire from the _Blue Aerie_.

Deprived of instruction, the drones had been thrown into confusion. All over his strategic borad, Frank could see that drone forces had halted in their tracks. Most of the battlegroups were still in good shape, and many of them had been damaged badly, but still in command of the field.

"Come on people!" Frank ordered. "One last push!" He began to close in with the drones, despite the severe damage to his _Night Gyr_. Triggering his lasers, he played the shafts of energy over the nearest drone, penetrating an ammo bin and setting off an explosion.

_Payback's a bitch. _Frank continued spraying his pulse lasers over the target as Kety joined in with his large lasers and PPC. The drone staggered under the assault, before it was finished off by a strafing attack from a _Seraph_, the plasma slicers literally cutting the structure into three large pieces. Frank and Kety took no chances, reducing the pieces to slag as they laid on the smoking ground.

The last advanced drone finally fell, under a murderous barrage of fire from Bryan's recon lance. As the battle ended, Frank found himself panting heavily, from the sweltering heat in his cockpit and the sheer exertion of the fight.

All over the field, broken machines lay scattered in heaps of burning metal. Unexploded warheads peppered the landscape, while the ground had been churned into mud from the movement of their machines.

Frank popped his cockpit hatch, and jumped out, as the survivors gathered into a circle near the facility. It was not for fresh air.

He retched out a long stream of vomit as he landed on the ground, unable to hold back the pain in his stomach nor the fear within him anymore. He wrenched off his neurohelmet and continued spewing the contents of his guts, even as Kety, Bryan, and the reinforcement detachment commander, a female mechwarrior named Cecilia Dawson approached. All of them, with the exception of Cecilia, looked horrible and haggard.

Frank stared up with bleary eyes and gave a weary smile. "We look like shit, eh?"

"All enemy units have been contained, Frank." Bryan spoke, ignoring his comment. "The _Blue Aerie_ is pounding the shit out of them from orbit even as we speak. Most of the other battlegroups are pulling back into the holes. Maybe we should do the same."

Frank nodded. "Where's Winters? He's not here."

Everybody looked around for the clanner, before an infantryman found him staring at the remnants of Deserk's _Black Hawk_. He simply stood here for a long time before Yoshino walked up to him and started to drag him away. As Des turned around, Frank was struck by his eyes.

_They look dead. Correction. They _are_ dead_. He didn't understand what was going on in Des' mind, but he knew he couldn't if he tried. He suspected there would be repercussions from what had happened here.

_It's over. It's all over_. Frank tried to feel happy, or even glad, but found he couldn't do so.

_Purple light_

_In the army_

_That is where_

_I want to be_

_Every day_

_I am training_

_With my rifle, my buddy, and me_

_SOC_

_Is killing me_

_Log PT_

_Just breaks my back_

_Sore feet_

_With endless marching_

_With my rifle, my buddy, and me_

_Booking out_

_To see my girlfriend_

_Saw her with_

_Another man_

_Beat the man_

_Go to DB_

_With my rifle, my buddy, and me_

_Purple light_

_At the warfront_

_That is where_

_My buddy died_

_If I die_

_Would you bury me_

_With my rifle, my buddy, and me…_


	35. The Einsteinian Monopoly

_Planck's Quantum Hole, Copernicus Caldera,_

_Einstein, Deep Periphery_

_17th March 3068_

_I cannot believe Deserk is dead, and that I am still alive._ This recurring thought came to Descartin Winters again and again as he sat on his bed in his makeshift bunk in the base, his patched-up legs pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his knees.

He was prepared to die in that last fight. He was even eager to embrace death, and it had given him a focus, a sense of power that terrified him.

During the battle, the fight with the advanced drones, he had felt invincible. _Stravag_, he _was_ invincible. There was no target he did not take down once he started on it, no enemy could touch him.

Until the sky erupted in fire and light.

He remembered thinking that it was the end for him, when almost all the armor on his mech had been blasted away by the orbital strike.

And then the transmission from Frank came, urging them to pull back. He had refused, but Deserk had unexpectedly fired on his _Nova Cat_, blowing it apart. He had ejected to be snagged by Lee's _Spider_ and taken to safety.

Deserk had died in the second orbital blast. All that was left of him was his codex bracelet, found in the wreckage of the _Black Hawk_.

It laid on Des' table as he stared at it. Beside it were some other items from Deserk's locker from the dropship _Nile_, a few letters and some personal souvenirs from past battles.

There was also a small black pouch containing Deserk's vineers. By clan law, they should be returned to the Bloodname House Leader, to be sacrificed during a private ceremony.

Des did not want to think about that might mean to him.

The one which grabbed his attention most was a letter addressed to him specifically, dated just before the battle. He had tried to ignore it, but it remained stuck in his mind, refusing to budge.

He did not want to touch any of Deserk's belongings, because he refused to accept the fact that his friend was dead. Years ago, after Luthien, it had not been so bad because there were still many comrades, friends still alive after the fight. But now he was the only warrior of his sibko left, and he had been delighted to find Deserk alive after so many years.

_I have lived for too long._ Descartin knew he should be dead. He had cheated death too many times for him to remember. He was almost forty years old now, and by winning a bloodname, his genes were already assured of immortality in the gene banks of Clan Nova Cat.

In truth, he had nothing left to live for. Even this last Seeker mission was simply a way for him to accomplish the one thing he had never done, a vision quest.

It was different for Deserk. He could recall the pride in Deserk's voice as he spoke of his reams and hopes for the future, of raising a family on Outreach. He had everything to live for.

_And now he is gone. _It was so bitterly unfair, that he, the clan warrior with nothing to live for, no real future to speak of, would be the one to survive, while Deserk, who had a child and a lifetime of happiness awaiting him on Outreach, would be the one to die.

There were too many painful memories for him now. He dreaded every time his mind went back to the past, where many demons lurked. As he got older, past events seemed to lose their luster of glory as friends and comrades were killed one by one.

What good were the glorious days of yesteryear when there was nobody to share them with? All that remained was the terror of combat, the frightened calls for support, the pain of loss after every battle.

Des wanted to cry, to let the tears flow, but strangely, he did not know how to cry. All he could do was to scream in rage at the universe, for the twists of fate that had led to this.

And he had done that so many times for the last few hours that he had no more strength even to get up from his bed.

There was a knock on his door.

"Come in." He said listlessly. His voice was hoarse and strangled.

Ian Dorlacen entered, wearing a clean jump suit under a brown and fading jacket, in stark contrast to Des, who had not even changed out of his cooling vest.

"It's morning mess time. That means food." The mercenary commander said. "Come on out."

Des stared at him for a while, before replying. "Neg. I am not hungry."

Ian suddenly shouted, "The heck you are! It's been more than eight hours since the battle ended, and you're still here in your vest!"

Des was startled by the outburst, and his eyes simmered with rage. "Leave me alone!"

Ian walked forward and grabbed Des by the front of his cooling vest. He pulled Des off the bed and flung him against a wall. "Wake up! Deserk is _dead_, and to sit here sulking will not bring him back!"

Des did not even notice the pain of being thrown against the wall as he lashed out at Ian with a punch. Ian drifted backwards as he avoided the blow. He was fresh and rested, whilst Des was not.

"He was my best friend. We grew up together!" Des yelled.

"And so? What would he think of you like this? Dammit, you are a mechwarrior. Act like one!"

Des leaned back against the wall. He was tired of fighting. "You don't understand what went on out there. I should be the one to die, not him. Not him." He repeated to himself softly.

"I understand all too well. You aren't the only one to have lost friends. I have lost too many as well. But that doesn't mean I get a death wish every time somebody dies!"

Des shook his head. "You did not know what happened out there. He could have retreated, and let me be the one to die. Instead he blasted me out of my mech, and I was the one to live."

"So you're angry at him for saving your sorry ass?"

"Maybe." Des sighed. "Maybe I am also angry at myself for not thinking of blowing him out of his mech first."

"He was a warrior, first and foremost. He knew the risks, same as you."

"Then why did he not tell me first? He knew he would die, and yet…"

"No greater love hath one man for another than to lay his life down for his fellow man." Ian quoted quietly. "Ancient words, but still no less true. He wanted you to live, _Star Captain_ Descartin Winters, and he was prepared to do so at the price of his life."

"Are you that uncaring, that callous, that you would squander away the gift of life he has bequeathed to you?" Ian asked as he walked to the door.

"Neg." Des breathed in deeply once, then exhaled out all the air in his lungs, as though trying to expel all the anger, the hurt. He looked up again, feeling a bit better. "I will be joining you for breakfast in a while. Just let me wash up first."

He could detect a slight smile on Ian's face as the merc walked through the open doorway.

"Wait." Des said just as Ian was about to close the door. "Why are you the one to talk to me?"

"You might not have noticed it, but Yoshino is still technically your subordinate, and too many of the others are too busy with their own tasks to worry about one demoralized clanner. Except me, so that's why I'm here."

"Busy? Free?" Des blinked. "I think you have an upcoming duel to worry about, quiaff?"

"Aff. I'm not worried." Ian grinned easily.

Frank was musing over an article from the alien archives in their makeshift medical center when a doctor clad in traditional white coveralls came up to him.

"Sir," He winced when Frank glared up at him, "Captain Jadine Sheik has woken up from her coma."

"Don't call me sir. Right now, I'm just another doctor. Same as you." Frank continued. "So how is she?"

"To tell the truth, she is raving mad at the moment, demanding to know where she is, what Falcon warriors are doing in the same ward, etc. I think it would be best if you explained everything to her yourself."

"Yeah, I'll do that. Thanks." Frank got up reluctantly, and started walking. The information inside that article was simply too interesting to ignore, as it dealt with the inhibition of metastasis in cancer, something which he had been involved in at the NAIS, while they had been trying to discover a cure for Joshua Marik's leukemia in 3056.

_How to explain the loss of almost her entire company of Dragoons? _Frank found himself agonizing over this problem as he walked towards her ward.

There had been many changes since the last of the humans on-world had transferred to the base.

For one, hot baths were finally available, as was fresh water for any number of purposes, where before they were only available in small quantities for drinking.

A few enterprising techs had managed to uncover the commands for the pumps working underground water sources throughout the planet, and managed to get the water routed to their toilets with some hasty plumbing. Some additional configuration of the pipes got the water to the repair bays, where the techs needed them to clean the machines.

Not that Frank, or anybody else, was going to inspect the mechs for parade readiness any time soon. _Except the Falcons, come to think of it._

Lizabet Danforth had already begun screaming at her techs to get her mechs up and in peak condition barely four hours after the last enemy drone was destroyed. It had taken several arguments by Star Colonels Colbert Icaza, Fallon Hazen, Mikos Roshak, and Creed Mattlov before she relented.

Frank shook his head. He could never really understand the Falcons. A small number of them were still spoiling for a fight, which Daniela Mattlov explained by noting that these Falcons did not really face the drones in full force, nor taken part in the defense of the ground batteries.

The mercs, on the other hand, were more than happy to find the campaign over, and the alien base offered riches beyond their wildest dreams. A few commanders had privately approached Frank with an interesting proposal though, and he was sorely tempted to accept, after he had run it through Ian Dorlacen and Robert Feehan for their opinions, and they had agreed to it.

Losses had been heavy. The Falcons had suffered 70% equipment damage, and 40% personnel losses. Lizabet Danforth had told him that the entire Rho Galaxy would have to be rotated out of the Occupation Zone for at least two more years for them to recover.

The mercs were just as badly off. Even with the release of former merc bondmen from the Falcons, they had only half of their original strength in personnel, and even less than that in machines, about 30%.

As he approached the ward where Captain Sheik was, he began to hear the sound of people shouting. And it was getting louder the nearer he approached the ward. As he walked into the room, the reason for that became apparent.

Captain Sheik was in a shouting match with a male Falcon warrior who was in the bed beside hers. The cause of his infirmary was immediately obvious from the two leg casts propped up above the foot of his bed.

Two medtechs were trying to stop Sheik from throwing a nearby datapad at the Falcon, while the other occupants of the room looked on in glee and amusement, which puzzled Frank, until he realized from past experience that patients simply enjoyed a good scrap, a familiar sentiment to anyone stuck in a hospital bed, especially warriors.

There was a smatter of applause from the appreciative audience as a particularly vehement exchange of insults took place. It was a cacophony of noise in the ward.

"Stop it!" He spoke loudly and firmly, but actually not expecting any result. "Come on, people, this is a hospital, not a fish market!"

To his chagrin and surprise, they did stop whatever they were doing, and all of them turned to look at him.

He cleared his throat self-consciously. "Okay, fun's over," he said as he pulled away the datapad from Sheik's hand with a strong jerk, took one look at it, and tossed it to a medtech, "now concentrate on getting yourselves healthy again."

He glanced pointedly at the clanner with broken legs, and the warrior simply turned to the other side to avoid looking at them. Frank sighed audibly.

Jadine looked cross as Frank sat down on a chair beside her bed. "What did you do in the time I was asleep?" She folded her arms.

_Here goes nothing._ Frank plunged into the whole sequence of events with a grimace.

"And that's it," he concluded.

She stared at him as though he was crazy.

"Look, it's the truth! You can ask everyone here in this room if you don't believe me!" Frank swept his arm around to indicate the ward.

"Ok, assuming you are telling me the truth, what's going to happen next?"

"Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth will take as much of the Star League and alien data as possible when she leaves, in return for an end to our war."

Jadine shook her head incredulously. "You are giving the Crusaders a technological advantage just like that?"

Frank winced. "It's not so simple. Many of the stuff has yet to be fully decoded and translated, and even if their scientists could understand the theories, it would years before anyone could start building advanced materials. From Lorik told me, even clan technology is mostly evolutionary, not revolutionary, which means that they wouldn't be too far ahead of the Inner Sphere in developing the technology."

"And?" She gestured with a hand, prompting him to continue.

"For the Warden clans, Des Winters will be taking the data back to Clan Goliath Scorpion, so that evens out matters on that side. As for the Successor States, we'll be selling them the tech, at a hefty price, of course."

"Of course." She said, "But what about the merc who wants to go into the open market for himself?"

Frank smiled. "Might not be a problem. Two days from now, we'll be forming a new merc brigade from all the mercs gathered here."

"Brigade? How do you think to convince all those mercs out there?"

"Simple. As of right now, we're the only ones with access to the lost Star League and alien technology. That makes us a monopoly. I'll prove that my single course credit in economics didn't go to waste by stating that as the sole source of this tech, we can sell the data at whatever price we want to the Houses, trickle by trickle. They will want to have it, since they all want to be at the forefront of technology."

"And once one House gets it, the others will want to catch up, so to speak. By jacking up the price as high as we dare to go, we'll be rich in no time. It'll be in every merc's interest to stay with us while we rake in the money, which will be distributed fairly and equally to everybody. They will want to be in."

She pursed her lips, considering. "There's one problem with your plan."

"And what's that?"

"Spies." She said plainly. "Did you ever consider the fact that the movement of eight regiments of mercenaries out of the Inner Sphere would go unnoticed?"

"Among these eight regiments, there will be agents of the Houses and god knows what else." At Frank's stricken look, she carried on speaking. "These spies will be able to procure the info and pass it back to their masters for _free_, which defeats your plan."

Frank looked stupefied for a moment, before he came to his senses again. "So we find those spies. It's that easy," he hesitated, "isn't it?"

She scoffed. "You're lucky Forsen Mandela cut a deal with the Dragoons. Now pull up the dividers. I don't want anyone overhearing me."

Frank did as she asked, and she went on. "I wasn't sent here just because I was a company commander, but also because I'm Wolfnet. I have files in a secure place that lists the name and allegiance of every agent and spy here, and some narco-interrogation tools in my quarters on the _Nile_."

"So in other words, you know who's a spy and who's not?"

"Yes. Well, 95 percent sure. I have a plan for ferreting out the rest, don't worry."

A thought struck Frank. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you seem to be someone the Dragoons can do business with. I won't be too wrong if I say that if this merc brigade idea of yours takes off, you'll be in a pretty high position, maybe even CO of this whole thing, right?"

"Nope, you won't be too wrong. But Commanding Officer will be a bit too much for me, _right now_."

"And there're other reasons for forming this merc brigade that you haven't told me yet. Be honest. The Dragoons want to know."

Frank shrugged his shoulders. "Sure. One is to protect this world as well, since it's gonna be our golden goose. The more important reason is to study up on the guys that beat the original aliens, and hopefully help defend humanity when the time comes."

"You don't think small, do you?" She laughed. "What you're proposing is exactly what the Dragoons were sent to the Inner Sphere to accomplish years ago!"

"The Dragoons will stand with your mercs in this endeavor, for a price, that is."

Frank understood instantly. "You also want a copy of the data. No problem, since that was in your original agreement with Forsen."

"Good. We'll go back to Outreach when the spy issue is settled. You will be holding your troops here, right?"

Frank nodded. "Only a few people will be going back to Outreach. Or at least, that's what I'm planning. Most of the mercs will stay here to refit their machines and train. I'm thinking of trading for food supplies from nearby inhabited worlds."

"Which are crawling with pirates."

"I've a plan for that too." He leaned in close, and whispered _sotto voce_. "Let's just say the advanced fighters aren't the only good stuff the aliens left us. I've got something that the Falcons don't know we have. And that makes us one heck of a merc unit from the very start."

Climbing up the side of his refitted _Awesome_, Ian felt relaxed in the warm afternoon sun as he entered his cockpit.

True to her word, Daniela had gotten some of her techs to fix up his _Awesome_ with clan tech. Ian had accepted the 320-rated XL engine, salvaged from a _Dragonfly_, two clan tech PPCs, a clan ER small laser, and enough clan type double heat sinks to outfit the mech.

Plus one very special Inner Sphere weapon, placed in his right torso.

He started up the mech without any difficulty, and it was soon eating up the ground in huge strides, walking towards the Circle of Equals for the mech duel.

Two mechs from his Lancers accompanied him, while a whole lot of people were already waiting around the circle, all of them behind the invisible shield that Lorik had set up around the arena with a shield generator, after some judicious stripping of a ground battery to remove the generator.

Stalls of food could be seen behind the shields, heaped with cans of rations and even some plates of cooked meats, which could only be the result of some hungry mercs taking advantage of the natural fauna. Ian's mouth watered as he ran his scanners over the tables.

Off to one side, Des' Harbinger Tina was holding a rapt audience captive with her music, while a few crazy techs were carrying out acts more suited for a circus, performing to a mass of people which included even some Falcons hungrily munching on meat sticks.

It almost felt like a carnival.

Daniela's _Masakari _was already waiting for him inside the shielded area, and as he walked up to the edge of the arena, the shield dropped temporarily for him to enter.

Their mechs faced off against each other, with more than a kilometer between them, within the two kilometer diameter arena. Ian quickly drove all thoughts of food out of his mind, as he got into his warrior mindset.

"This is Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth!" A loudspeaker blared out. "This is a Trial Of Grievance between Major Ian and Star Captain Daniela Mattlov!"

Not _exactly _a Trial of Grievance. Ian also noted sourly that she omitted his surname. Not that it was his _real _name, but still…

"Warriors, you are free to engage!"

Ian started his mech running forward, firing off his PPCs at extreme range as he did so. The two ER PPC poured out damage equivalent to three of his old Inner Sphere versions. One shot hit, slashing a gash in the _Masakari_'s right leg.

Surprisingly, Daniela did not open fire, instead sprinting towards him. Ian checked his computer quickly, trying to assess her mech's configuration.

The computer came up with a pulse laser boat with a targeting computer, which Ian groaned at. She certainly wasn't going to take any chances, sacrificing some range for the ability to confirm a strike, and even to target locations once the fighting got close.

He backpedaled the _Awesome_, trying to keep the range while lighting off with his PPCs constantly. He would only get one more free salvo off before she could use her large pulse lasers in reply. Another PPC hit the _Masakari _right in the middle, but it had more than enough armor there to spare.

She got into range, and fired off with all four of her large pulse lasers. Ian cursed as three of the shots hit, two of them punching into his right arm, and the other into his left arm.

His next salvo of PPCs missed completely, while Daniela continued carving into his mech, the right arm stripped bare of armor and exposing the PPC to damage. An idea occurred to Ian.

He lowered the right arm, hoping to lure her into thinking that his right arm PPC was destroyed, and continued to fire only his left torso PPC. It hit on the next discharge, reducing her center torso armor to tatters.

He ran forward as she started working on his left torso, using aimed shots to remove his left torso PPC from the fight. The armor on that location was completely stripped away, but the PPC was not hurt, and Ian managed to keep his mech up and moving, despite the loss of almost two tons of armor.

She stepped the _Masakari _forward as well, ready to end the fight with some well placed shots to his _Awesome_. Ian had other ideas.

He fired the heavy gauss rifle he had held in reserve so far, the heavy nickel iron shell streaking from the barrel in the right torso to smash into the _Masakari_, in one instant crushing the remaining center torso armor to nothing, and digging deep into the internals. Several puffs of smoke poured out of the gaping middle of the tottering mech, while a grinding sound could be heard, indicating gyro damage.

Ian followed up by bringing up his right arm PPC and whipping both PPCs into her mech, the particle beams stabbing into her right leg, snapping it at the bone.

She fired back before her right leg gave way, the blue energy darts seeking out his exposed left torso, but Ian foiled her move by torso twisting to his left, letting her shots play over his center and right torso, reducing most of the armor there into ruin even as her mech collapsed onto the hot ground.

He twisted his torso back, and trudged over to her mech. He lowered his guns to her prone mech, and spoke through his speakers.

"Yield, quiaff?"

"Aff, I yield." She replied breathlessly, the air knocked out of her lungs when the _Masakari_ fell.

As Ian looked around, he noticed dozens of spectators tuning out of the fight and going back to having fun and food. He wanted to feel offended, but found he couldn't work up the anger, nor even some irritation. He smiled ruefully.

_Sure is nice to be able to relax_, he thought. It had been a grueling campaign, and the impromptu carnival was an excellent way for them to rest and enjoy life after the taut tension of the past few days.

He started thinking about parking his mech in a spot nearby so he could participate in the fun as well, and hopefully drag Daniela along. Hey, he thought to himself,  the fighting's over, right?


	36. All That Is Gold

_Temptown, Harlech,_

_Outreach, Chaos March,_

_1st May 3068_

"What do you mean, Landar is dead?" Frank Meronac demanded of Lieutenant Mitchell.

"You heard me." The police detective was unfazed, and continued reading the file in his hands. "A man matching his description was gunned down in a brawl in Temptown two weeks ago. The body was found, and his face was positively identified. His remains were cremated just yesterday, and his possessions were left to one," he took a closer look at the file, "Forsen Mandela. That's you."

"Huh?" The merchant was puzzled. "Why does his stuff go to me?"

The Lieutenant flipped through a few pages on his file searching for the entry before replying, "Uh, because there was a letter in his apartment which stated that all his belongings go to you?"

"And that's good enough?"

"Yes." Mitchell answered curtly. He had better things to do than cater to these two mercenaries.

"And what about the killer?" Frank asked.

"Some deadbeat who ran away before he was caught. Murders like this are a dime a dozen in Temptown. We don't have the resources, nor inclination, to pursue this matter further." He closed the file with a slap, and threw it on his desk.

"A man got killed and that's all you have to say?" Frank was incredulous, his eyes wide. "What sort of policeman are you?"

"The sort who doesn't give a damn about those thugs on the street." Mitchell snarled. "They can kill themselves off for all I care. Not my business, and none of yours too."

Frank fought down the urge to strangle the man, but he knew that it was a lost cause.

He looked at Forsen, "Let's get Landar's stuff, and then outta this dump." The merchant nodded his head in agreement.

Forsen didn't look too unhappy though, because all the profits for the trip was his.

Or would have, if he and the other operators hadn't agreed to Frank's conscription of their ships for his brand new mercenary brigade.

Frank had offered generous terms, dangling a share of the profits from the sale of the advanced technology before him and his crew, which he had immediately accepted.

Even better was the potential, the _opportunity_, to change the transport business forever.

The police had already run through the Landar's items once already, but when no discernable clues were found, they simply palmed everything off to Forsen. It was a quick process involving several forms, and a bored storeman passing over the stiff in a duffel bag, also belonging to Landar. Frank had the feeling that this sort of thing happened everyday, and that the police were glad to be rid of the stuff.

Frank ran over his choices over the past few weeks in his mind as they walked out of the Temptown police station, a drab and gray three floor affair that did little to inspire law and order in its grimy surroundings. Graffiti was scribbled over its walls, in bright colors that served as a sharp contrast to the building's dullness. Slung over Forsen's shoulders was the bag filled with Landar's belongings.

To discourage muggers from thinking they were easy marks, Frank and Forsen wore their handguns openly, while Frank wore a bulletproof vest under his jacket.

Almost immediately after the drone warship was destroyed, another programmed archive in the files had appeared to the people in the command center. Pascal Thome had been smart and quick enough to hide the information from the clanners present, waiting until Frank and Ian returned before breaking the data to them.

After the Falcons had left Einstein, about the very first thing he and the others did was to board the nearest dropship to the alien space facility.

An alien spacecraft production facility! Right in the middle of the asteroid belt, it was basically a huge asteroid itself, the size of a small moon. And if that wasn't enough, there were two alien spacecraft within its voluminous hangars, each the size of a jumpship, but with far greater cargo and carrying capacities, and armed to the teeth with advanced weaponry.

The reason given for the late revelation was the fear the Qlictorio had of the drones talking control of the facility, much like the underground base. As usual, they had devised another elaborate program requirement before allowing the new owners of their legacy access to the space facility.

Frank had felt a bit betrayed as he tried to understand the justification for the Qlictorio's convoluted plots. The ships could have saved quite a few lives if they had been revealed at the very beginning, instead of after the battle, when so much had already been lost.

Daniela Mattlov, who had elected to remain behind as bondsman to Ian Dorlacen after she lost to him in the duel, had been furious at Frank's sleight of hand. It had taken Ian a few 

days to calm her down. And in the end, Frank said he never did recall any agreement that they were obligated to share spacecraft with the Falcons, sticking to the letter, but not the spirit, of the agreement.

All they had agreed was that the Falcons would leave with all the data from the Star League and alien archives, while the base would go to the mercs, who had after all, discovered it first. And strictly speaking, the alien space facility was part of the base.

It was a moot point. The Falcons were gone, back to the Clan Occupation Zone sans one _Black Lion _warship, many warriors, and many mechs.

Galaxy Commander Lizabet Danforth had been informed of the possible threat from beyond known space, but she had told them the chances of the clans taking the warning seriously was very slim. After all, who cared about the invasion of little green men when there were more than enough enemies already on your border?

And besides, the attitude of most clansmen regarding aliens was that "if they appeared, we would destroy them all too!"

A dangerous attitude, after what Frank had seen of their technology, of which the drones were the lowest rung.

He took comfort in a book Ian had lent him, "Wisdom of The Universe", by Homer Kellogi. There was one paragraph which Frank found very apt for their situation now.

_"What is a homeworld, you ask? I'll tell you: a homeworld is any chunk of rock in space where man can live, whether it is Terra or new Terra or some other Terra. And I can promise you, if there are any little green men who try to push us off, they are going to have a real fight on their hands."_

That had sounded nice, but also disturbing. Frank had no wish to have the entire galaxy embroiled in war in the future, for it had seemed to be humanity's one bane that they would never be rid of.

Jean Posavatz had also gone back to Roche, after the Goliath Scorpion _Hunter _class jumpship _Far Traveler_ reappeared in-system two weeks after their last battle. The _Bleeding Past _went with her, along with the same items and information the Falcons had taken.

Des Winters, and the majority of his retinue, stayed on Einstein. The Seeker had not explained his reasons, but Frank guessed it had something to do with Deserk's death. He had accompanied them to Outreach, where Captain Sheik and Bryan brought him to the Inland South area of the city.

Deserk's death was only one of many losses they had endured, even if it was one that had struck closest to Frank. He was saddened by the warrior's sacrifice, but the hardest hit was still Descartin Winters, who still seemed like a zombie even after Ian had counseled him.

Throughout the journey here, and few weeks before they left, Descartin had not touched the controls of a mech or anything similar even once. Not for simulator battles, not for live fire practices, not for mech drills.

He spent all the time in his room, where screams of anger and hurt could be occasionally heard. Sometimes, they could hear sounds of things crashing onto the floor, or of fists hitting the wall with tremendous force. Des came out only for food and to relieve himself, but it always took either Yoshino, Tina, or Wolkul, his personal technician, to remind him.

His Sage, Lorik, was too busy having fun with all the new science he had discovered. The elemental had survived the battle unscathed, and with a great deal of respect earned after he had killed a _Lemming_ singlehandedly.

Frank had planned to sell the tech off to the Houses, with the mercs all getting a cut of the profits. He, Ian, Jadine Sheik and several other leaders had planned for some long hours before they came up with a workable deal.

All of the merc present had agreed to Frank's scheme, and in true mercenary fashion, the commanders of the strongest groups got the main command positions.

Frank, as de facto commander of the Raiders, got posted as second in command, answering only to Ian Dorlacen, whose Lancers were the single largest command.

Next in line were the others, Hamirah Rasouf and Robert Feehan, who were tentatively assigned as regimental colonels, even if there weren't any real regiments set up yet.

They needed to make a trip back to Outreach, both to settle loose ends and to get into contact with the houses to sell their technology. Ian and Frank led a small contingent of mercs, leaving Robert Feehan in charge of Einstein, where his prior experience as a regimental commander could be put to good use training the new formations. But they needed to get the spacecraft ready first, since nobody wanted to go back on the oh-so-vulnerable jumpships.

It took the jumpship crews three weeks to get used to the new alien spacecraft and the advanced navigational systems, which also needed refitting to make them suitable for human operators. Some science fiction buff had dubbed them _Nautilus_, after Captain Nemo's famous and fictional ship of the seas, and the name stuck, for these ships were far more advanced than anything humanity had, much like the make-believe _Nautilus_ in the 19th century.

It was a lot of testing and experimentation before Lorik and Forsen were convinced that the ships were fully dependable. The first _Nautilus_, which they named _Nemo_, after the fictitious captain, had been the one to carry them all the way from Einstein to Outreach in just under a month, at a FTL speed of about 20 LY per day.

They had modified the hull of the _Nemo_ at great effort to support four dropships, of which only two were used for the journey to Outreach. The other _Nautilus_, christened _Ahab_ after a popular vote, was still undergoing refitting at the space yard, which the spacers had given the unflattering name of "Galactic Pit Stop for Hitchhikers", inspired by the title of an old book. Frank had a sneaking suspicion that any future _Nautilus _would be named after Horatio Hornblower and other famous ship captains from novels.

Well, provided they could get even the minimal manpower to operate the yard. Even the refitting of the _Nemo_ had required practically their entire tech force. For once, Frank didn't have a plan to produce ships, or even mechs on world, for that matter, despite the functional factories and facilities on Einstein. Heck, there were even massive borehole mines that could extract huge amounts of material for use, provided there was enough manpower.

The _Ahab _was slated to make runs to outlying systems in the Periphery, particularly in the Rim Collective, to trade for food and supplies. Each dropship would be armed with battle armor troops and mechs to discourage piracy. The _Ahab _itself would be a final deterrent, but Frank hoped it would not come to that.

Frank recalled the month spent in hyperspace on the _Nemo_. The trip was quite comfortable, actually, and even the few personnel with known TDS were unaffected, which gave credence to the hypothesis that it was the highly disruptive energies in the zone accessed by the KF drive that caused the debilitating effects.

Hyperspace had been a orange place, filled with small black shapes. Lorik had explained the black spheres as gravity field echoes in hyperspace of stars and planets. To Frank, the black shapes often passed by quickly, which also gave him a rough gauge of their speed in real space.

They could have gone faster, but they decided to err on the side of caution. Nobody wanted to end up 'lost' in space if the hyperspace drive failed.

They had exited about two days worth of dropship travel away from Outreach's zenith jump point, and proceeded to the planet with their dropships burning in at a standard 1G acceleration.

Jadine Sheik got them through the tangle of security checks caused by their unorthodox entry into the system, which Frank had insisted on because he did not want anyone to know of the _Nautilus_.

Both dropships carried a mix of mercenary commanders, and spies exposed by Jadine Sheik's Wolfnet list and some judicious testing of all personnel by her and Benny Greaves, who Ian vouchsafed for, and was assigned to help Jadine root out the remaining spies, due to his spec ops training.

Hamirah Rasouf had been mortified to learn that Benny was actually a spy from the Taurian Concordat, as was Frank. And as he thought about it, Frank realized that Ian never really told him about his own connections to the Taurian Concordat, or why he thought Benny could be fully trusted. _Even_ if Benny had agreed to work for them and not reveal any secrets from Einstein.

Most of the spies, however, were die-hard loyalists to their governments, and almost all of them refused to swear allegiance to the new merc unit they were forming on Einstein. There were five from MIIO, three from LIC, eight utterly inept operatives from SAFE, two from the Maskirovka, two from the ISF, four from Comstar ROM, three from the Periphery not counting Benny, and most ominously, two from Word of Blake ROM.

Frank hated the Wobblies, primarily for their beliefs. He had been raised on a poor world without much in the way of technology, and he had no desire to see humanity plunged into a dark age before rising again. To Frank, technology was neither inherently good, nor evil.

But the alien tech did have some ominous implications, especially the sentient/machine interface, which Lorik had renamed Man/Machine Interface, and nicknamed MMI for short. It promised incredible advances for mech control technology, but Frank was worried about the abuses that are possible with such direct intrusions into the brain.

Still, the few scientifically trained people they had with them were not enough to fully decode and understand the new technology, and Frank had already decided that they would sell off the Star League information before thinking of selling the alien tech next. He wanted to let their own scientific staff and their own mechs have a crack at the new tech first.

Failing that, he had a plan to get some of the best and brightest minds in the Inner Sphere to Einstein, playing on the many contacts he had made at his alma mater, the NAIS. He had wanted to go to New Avalon anyway, but it wasn't for business at first.

Interestingly, the one Star League Defense Force intelligence officer they identified, a lone _Sagittaire_ pilot named Annette Fourier, agreed to work with them, on the grounds that they would reveal the information to the Houses in time, which Ian had easily agreed to. Ian had thought of assigning her as their liaison officer to the Star League.

So they had landed at the Harlech Interstellar DropPort after a system transit of nine days from the time they detached from the _Nemo_, at which point Wolf Dragoon security took custody of the unrepentant spies for 'disposal' to their respective embassies.

Frank was smart enough, however, to have each group of operatives carry several 'advertisements' for the purchase of the advanced data back to their Houses, complete with contact info for transactions. Even if the paper ads did not convince the House leaders, it was a foregone conclusion that the spies' own testimonials would.

For this trip to Temptown, Frank had accompanied Forsen just to talk to the man who had started this whole business, specifically because of the discrepancies that had cropped up between Forsen's retelling of the man's story and Ally's records.

Landar had claimed to have landed on the planet with a pirate band, but there was no record of any KF jump into the system for the past hundred years!

Not only that, but the small portable defense shield he had used to convince Forsen had turned out to be available only to the aliens, and not the Star League. And even the small device he had given Forsen had some crucial design differences with those of the Qlictorio.

Which all added up to one huge mysterious puzzle. And Frank hated puzzles, especially when they had cost so much in lives and material.

The key machine they had used to get into the base had its components fused, rendering the device unusable ever again. Lorik had been puzzled at this, because it had clearly been meant for reuse. Yet another mystery, because nobody had been spotted tampering with the machine, according to the surveillance cameras.

And the circumstances of Landar's death had raised all sorts of question marks in Frank's mind. It seemed too pat, too coincidental. It was entirely possible that Landar was still alive, but for what possible reason? Unless he was working for some hidden agency that wanted them to find the alien base, and then…

And then what? Frank couldn't figure it out, try as he might, while he walked along the streets of Harlech towards the Inland South residential area.

_I have conspiracies on the brain_, Frank observed sourly as he nodded in greeting to a huge elemental policeman on patrol, clad in a blue uniform, his retractable truncheon swinging easily by his side.

Frank hoped there would be clues in the items in the bag, though he didn't hold out much hope. If they had really wanted to hide their tracks, surely they wouldn't be so stupid as to leave clues in the bag, right?

_One can always hope_, he told himself. And he wanted those responsible to explain exactly to him why all the subterfuge, the sleight of hand, of which Landar's 'death' was one, was needed.

Frank halted suddenly as he remembered something. Forsen went on for a few more steps before turning around to look at him.

"What's wrong?"

"Uh, Forsen, can you go get Descartin instead? I have to go to the Comstar station." Frank smiled weakly from embarrassment. "I need to send a message to my girlfriend and my parents, and maybe check for any messages from them too."

Forsen snickered, "What, can't wait for a few more minutes?"

"Forsen, you don't know how it feels like. I'll meet you and the others at the Goat, ok?" Frank started running off without waiting for a reply, "Bye!"

Which left Forsen Mandela staring at the pavement tracks caused by Frank's sudden departure. "Damn youths nowadays…" Forsen muttered under his breath.

Halting at the gate of a low fence, where a small path led to a small house with two floors, Descartin Winters debated internally whether to carry on his current path. The fingers of his right hand clutched a letter from Deserk, while his left carried a bag filled with a few items he had bought at the mall with the money Ian had given him.

He had been a liability to everybody in the previous two months. He had avoided anything and everything that had once been a normal part of his life, concentrating on his Great Work, where he direct his sorrow and energies to the music synthesizer. He had lost all taste for war and fighting, not caring for the results of the latest mech exercise by the mercs, or even some experimental new technology they were trying out, where once he would have been the first in line.

And even more than that, he feared the inner demon within him that had been unleashed during the battle. It had made him invincible.

It had also terrified him.

So breaking all manner of treaties and agreements, Descartin Winters traveled to Outreach, far behind the lines of the clan front. In a way, he wasn't breaking anything, though Ian had commented that Comstar would have a fit once they knew about his presence.

And that was before considering the reaction of Khan Ariel Suravov. There was a very good chance that he would be declared a rogue by the clan, but Des did not care. After all, he should have been killed in the last battle. Every day that came after was merely a bonus, one he did not really appreciate.

Captain Sheik and Bryan had already walked up to the door, and were waiting for him to join them. Yoshino Ihara waited behind him, patient as ever, one hand resting easily on his katana.

_Why am I doing this?_ He asked himself. _As part of my repentance for surviving? Or simply to increase my ache in my soul?_

Another part of his mind answered back. _Because Deserk asked you to do this. That letter was for his wife. He trusted you to carry out his last wishes._

What was that Ian Dorlacen had said about a healing process? Handling pain being easier when it was shared?

Des did not really subscribe to the idea of sharing his grief, but it still laid within him, a palpable sorrow that even now threatened to send him over the abyss of despair.

He made his decision, pushing against the gate and nodding to Bryan as he walked resolutely to the door to join them. He could hear the creak of the gate as Yoshino followed, the oil on the hinges worn away by constant use.

After all, he had come this far. _Better to get it over with_, he told himself sternly.

Bryan raised his hand to knock, and his knuckles rapped sharply against the wooden door twice, three times, as he called out, "Reena! It's me, Bryan! We're back from our mission!"

"Bryan?" A woman shouted from inside the house. "Hold on for a moment!"

The door was soon opened by a tall woman with short black hair. Her brown eyes conveyed warmth and strength at the same time. Her arms were white with flour powder, as was her face, though she had cleaned her face up a bit with a piece of cloth.

"Bryan!" She saw Jadine Sheik. "Captain Sheik! You're back! Where's Deserk?"

Jadine Sheik cleared her throat to speak, but Des could already see the realization and horror dawning in Reena's eyes.

Sheik spoke with a formal, emotionless tone. "I regret to inform you that Mechwarrior Deserk was killed in action on the planet Einstein. He…"

She was cut off by Reena, who collapsed to the floor near the door, one hand clutching the side of the door, while the other clasped the front of her dress. She muttered in shock, "No, no, no. It's not possible."

Descartin swallowed hard. "Deserk is dead. I was there. I saw it with my own eyes. He died with courage and honor. He saved my life."

Reena looked up at him. Her teary eyes brightened for a while, thinking he was Deserk, but they faded as she realized he was someone else.

"Who…" She asked, as the first tears began to flow.

He answered. "Deserk was my brother. We grew up in the same sibko. I am Descartin Winters, and I owe your husband, my brother, more than I could ever repay."

"Let's go in and talk." Jadine said as she moved beside the grieving Reena, wrapped one arm around a shoulder, and supported her into the house. Bryan and Des went in as well, while Yoshino closed the door behind them.

They sat down in the living room, while Bryan went into the kitchen to make some tea for the distraught Reena. The sofas were comfortable and a small baby crib hung nearby, where the smallest occupant of the house lay sleeping. Des put his items down on a nearby table.

"Tell me everything, Captain. I want to know." Reena said in a small voice, even as she tried to hold herself together to listen to Jadine. She tried to hold back her crying, but to no avail, even as she reached into a pocket for a handkerchief.

Sheik shook her head. "I wasn't there, but Star Captain Winters was. Let him tell you what happened."

Des sighed. "It was an all out fight. Our foes came on without mercy, without remorse. Deserk went with me to hold up a group of enemy reinforcements to buy time for the rest of our forces. We were badly outnumbered, but we held on. In the end, however, he was killed by an orbital bombardment from a warship overhead. Before he died, he destroyed my mech to make me eject, and that saved my life."

Reena visibly paled. "Orbital bombardment? Who would dare to use such tactics?"

Des clenched his fists. "I wish I can tell you more, but the long and short of it is that the agencies responsible for Deserk's death have paid in full for their crimes." The vehemence in his voice permeated the room, a sign of his rage.

He relaxed his hands, and the air, the atmosphere around him did likewise. "He left you a letter. I think you should read it." He reached over and plucked the envelope from the table, handing it to Reena.

She opened the envelope and took out the letter, unfolding it carefully as though it was coated with acid.

Reena spent a few minutes reading it, weeping silently.

She finished the letter, and fell back into the sofa.

"What did he tell you?" Des did not wish to intrude on her grief any more than necessary, but in a way, he was also sharing her pain.

"He knew he was going to die." The letter shook in her hands. "He wrote to tell me that he loved me, that he was sorry for not being here for young Rachel's birth, that he was sorry for not being here for me in the future. He said he just _knew_ that it was inevitable."

What she had said was also the gist of the letter Deserk had left to him. Descartin had been furious when he had realized that if he had been a bit more perceptive before the battle, he might have been able to pick up Deserk's unease. And things might have been different.

"So what are you going to do now?" Sheik asked.

Just then, the baby in the crib began to cry. And no wonder, as the sense of gloom in the house was so strong that it was almost a physical presence. Reena quickly moved over to the crib and held Rachel in her strong arms, cooing and swaying gently to lull the child to sleep. Strangely enough, that brought some color back to Reena's pale face.

"I still have 4 months of maternity leave before I return to active duty." She said softly. "After that, we had planned to go into the Home Guard command, and work shifts, while we would be able to raise a real family here on Outreach. Deserk said he did not want Rachel to grow up in a sibko, where only hardship awaited her."

"And now?"

"I don't know. Tomorrow was so bright. Now… now all I see is darkness. I don't know what to do. I have to work, and then somebody will have to watch Rachel. She'll have to be sent to some child-care center in the day." Even as she spoke, she was already considering her options and discarding the least helpful ones.

Des stood up, and walked over to the crib. "May I?" He asked, as he offered to carry the baby.

When Reena hesitated, he said, "Deserk was my brother by blood, so that makes this child my niece. I will never harm her."

In fact, Star Captain Descartin Winters, for all his journeys, travels, and battles, had never held a child before in his life, but he was not about to be dissuaded by his lack of experience. Reena handed him the child gingerly, and he was tentative at first, treating Rachel like a porcelain vase.

Yoshino Ihara and the others stared on in amazement as Rachel initially cried loudly, her lungs bursting with sound, before being gradually calmed to sleep by the muscular clanner, who mimicked what he had seen and swayed his arms soothingly to an inner rhythm.

"A strong child." Des remarked, surprised that he could even feel pride in this _freebirth_, this natural-born child of Deserk's. The most striking features were her eyes, which were the same eyes that stared back at him every day in the mirror, and the eyes which he had shared with Deserk.

As he held the child, Descartin understood why Reena had seemed better after carrying the baby. In a way, it was a strong reminder that Deserk was still with them, in the child, his flesh and blood.

_These children are our future_, Des realized. That was what Deserk was also fighting for, what he had died for.

He looked at Reena as he slowly laid the baby into the crib. "Ms..." He was unsure how to address her.

"Just call me Reena. I was also a product of the iron wombs." _Nameless_, was the unspoken thought.

"Reena. I am sorry that events had turned out as they did on Einstein. Whatever happened there must remain secret for yet some time, but rest assured, I will not let his death, his sacrifice, be in vain. Whatever happens next, know that I am willing to help whenever you require it."

"And so are we. The Dragoons will never abandon the family of such a brave warrior. I was there too. And I made a promise." Bryan said as he walked in with a tray of tea. "And uh, sorry for taking so long. I had some trouble with the water heater."

They all sat down again, and before an awkward silence set in, Reena asked Des to describe his childhood with Deserk, of which Deserk had said little to her. She did not press further on the details of Deserk's death, as she probably knew as a warrior herself that some matters have to be kept secret.

They drank tea, and ate some biscuits which Reena made herself. There was even some laughter when Des recounted some of their misdeeds in the sibko, even as cadets in training.

As he related his youth, Des realized that by doing so, they were both recalling their happy memories with Deserk in their minds, and it helped to assuage the grief.

Time passed quickly, and before he knew it, it was almost five in the afternoon, when they would have to meet up with Ian and the others at the Goat.

Reena had seemingly accepted Deserk's death by then, though the anguish in her was still visible. But she was on the way to recovery, and Des finally understood what Ian had meant about sharing pain, because his heart did not hurt so much either.

He handed her the bag of presents he had bought at the mall, containing some toys and books for the child, including a cuddly Nova Cat plushie that he would not touch with a ten foot pole under normal circumstances. He offered some money as well, knowing full well that it was not his, but rather Ian's, but Reena refused.

It was the very least he could do. But with this last task accomplished, he felt empty.

_Is there anything left in the world for me to do?_

_//route Outreach-Woodstock; through to New Avalon; receive Clarice Ferguson //encode text//_

_Dearest Clarice,_

_            Sorry for not sending this out earlier, but I just got back to Outreach. Ahead of schedule, I might add._

_            I'm fine, and all my limbs are in working condition, which is more than I can say for many of the other mercs who went to the Periphery. I nearly got killed more times than I could remember, but somehow I made it. If your father hadn't been so stubborn, I wouldn't have to risk my neck in the first place. I would getting a cushy garrison job with some Davion Guard unit, rebuilding after the civil war._

_            Still, I can't say this trip has been a waste. Far from it. I've learnt a lot, and seen a lot in these few months. Can't say more, but let's just say I'm getting closer to my goal of getting your father to accept us. If he still doesn't, then we'll elope. There's this paradise in the Periphery…_

_            Yeah, I know, he might decide to take his anger out on my parents. That's always the sticky part. They aren't willing to leave Lackland._

_            So how are things going with you? Is there a lot of work at the hospital? I certainly hope not. In any case, take care of yourself. Doctors aren't of any use to anyone if they're sick themselves._

_And how's the research going? I heard just before I left that funds were going to be pulled because they needed it for rebuilding, which would be a damn shame. There're many people who would benefit from your work. Maybe you could get Doc Banzai to help._

_            I miss you a lot. I miss your voice, the smell of you, the way you laugh at me whenever I did something stupid or funny. I miss having someone to talk to, when I could just be myself. _

_            There's a file document for my parents attached to this message. It's in condensed form, so help me transmit to it them, because it's cheaper to do it from New Avalon._

_            With a bit of luck, I will be going to New Avalon in a few weeks time, so we might finally get some time together again. It's supposedly for business, but being near the top of new management has its advantages._

_            I'll tell you more when I get back. Take care._

_With all my love,_

_Frank_

Frank nodded to the Comstar acolyte as the white clad technician compiled the message into the batch of data to be sent out.

He checked his watch. He was getting late for their meeting in The Goat's Tavern, a favorite hangout for mercenaries on Outreach.

Ian Dorlacen stared at Daniela Mattlov in disbelief as she polished off her third cheeseburger in as many minutes.

"Is anything the matter?" She asked on seeing his shocked expression.

"Uh, I know the food here is good, but can you stop gorging yourself like that? People are staring." He took a look around as he rotated his head, the grimace apparent on his face.

"They can stare all they want. I am not doing anything wrong, quiaff?" Ian winced at her use of the clan word. He really did not want to draw any more attention to themselves than they already had.

"No, but tell me. Have you ever had a hamburger before?"

"I have never eaten something as good as this." She said between mouthfuls. "All I had while in the sibko and serving in the clan were combat rations. Even in the occupation zones, we were not allowed to wander out into the freebirth cities. The Khans did not want us to become corrupted by their ways. Policing was left to the lower castes and the failed warriors."

_But you're getting corrupted now anyway. Score one for living in the Inner Sphere. _Ian wondered, not for the first time, why Daniela had insisted on becoming his bondsman after he had defeated her. He had expected her to simply accept the loss and return with her unit back to her clan. Instead, she had stayed with him, as well as the surviving elementals he had captured in his first battle. The reason she gave him was it was honor and clan custom.

She was not the only one. Much to Peggy Yeager's chagrin, Galietra Binneti had decided to stay on as well, citing that it was the Lancers who had taken him as a bondsman. He was quickly put in charge of their aerospace contingent, composed of the few remaining _Seraphs _and a handful of standard fighters that had survived the campaign.

He could always feel a certain tension between him and Daniela, but he could barely figure out what it was, and he was afraid to try. During the two months they had spent together, she had complained incessantly that he was not treating her like a proper bondswoman, granting her all the rights and privileges of a warrior despite her own insistence that she earn them first.

There was simply nothing to earn. She was an elite warrior, and even if she had fought and killed members of his unit, Ian could hardly bring himself to hate her. That was one advantage of fighting in mechs. Combat and death were largely impersonal affairs, and in the twists and turns of the wars of mankind in the past thousand years, there have been more than enough cases of foes turned comrades.

Trying to get his troops to accept her was slightly more difficult, but they also understood. It wasn't personal, it was just business and duty. In the ever changing environs of the Chaos March, they were more than used to such changes in allegiances.

Ian had brought her, along with Benny, to Outreach. While it was largely to settle the affairs of the new unit they were forming, Ian also had another objective, to find out more about the situation of the Taurian Concordat before deciding how to return to Taurus.

The mercs had a chain of succession if anything happened to the main commanders, or the 'ringleaders', as Hamirah Rasouf, now a Brevet-Major, had commented ungraciously. Ian had a feeling he would not be in charge for much longer, and that command would eventually be handed to Frank.

They had entered the restaurant twenty minutes ago, with Lorik and Tina in tow. Seated around two tables arranged next to each other, they ate and talked quietly while waiting for Frank and the others to show up.

Ian caught a movement towards their table out of the corner of his eye. He turned around to see a Chinese man dressed in a fashionable black suit, holding a wine glass in his right hand even as his left hand came up amicably up in a sign of greeting to Ian. The long nails of the fingers on his left hand glittered with reflected golden light according to the traditional Liao custom.

"Good evening, Major Dorlacen. I trust you are well after your excursion to the Periphery?" In this one question, Mandrinn Lin De Jian served notice that he knew about the new 'arrangement' the mercs had set up, and his intention to persuade Ian to pass on to his government the data for the discovered technology.

_The vultures start to gather._ Ian tensed himself inwardly for the negotiation that was about to start. He pasted a smile on his face, and answered back. "I'm very well, Mandrinn Lin, thank you for asking."

"Ahhh," Lin drew out a long breath as he sat down on an empty chair and placed his glass on the table. The others looked at Ian expectantly, but he waved them to keep to their own business. This was something he could handle without their help, and they would not be able to understand the intricacies of the situation anyway.

Lin continued, "It is good that you are fine. There are certain issues that need to be discussed…"

Never losing the smile on his face, Ian interjected, "You can discuss them with the lawyers we have hired in the city. They are more than willing to settle the issues of payment and data transfer."

"Surely there is no need for such middlemen," Lin replied smoothly, "After all, we have worked together for many times now. That should be reason enough for us to come to an agreement that would be beneficial to everyone. That technology you have found could be the savior of all humanity."

_Wow, they got the info out of their operatives that quickly? _Ian thought.

Ian decided to dance around the topic. "Which House Liao and the Capellan Confederation thinks it is? Sorry, but I'm willing to sell it to all the Houses equally, so that everybody would be on even footing. Also a chance at more profit." Ian took a swig from the bottle of bear in front of him. "We're not the Gray Death Legion, and I'm not a goody two shoes who is willing to save the human race from itself etcetera blah, blah, blah."

Ian stared hard into Lin's eyes. "You want it? You pay for it. Same as everybody else, and everybody gets a chance."

"I know you are a businessman at heart, and simply seeking more profit, but the more.. shall we say… partisan members of your little band might just decide to sell the information on their own, and earn more that way."

Ian dismissed that with a shake of his head. "Maybe, but they are all stuck on the cache world now, and they know that there are many who have paid blood for that knowledge, and that the others will gladly strip their hides if they decide to strike out on their own."

"I was referring to you, Major Ian." Lin arched his fingers, the long nails intercrossing to form an X. "You have contacts with a certain government at the highest levels, am I correct? That would place your loyalties in a rather… precarious position." Lin smiled as if delighted at seeing a fly caught in the web of a pet spider.

Benny paled as he overheard Lin speak, while Ian narrowed his eyes. Daniela polished off her cheeseburger, and stared at them with puzzlement written on her face. _He knows, and that must mean that Sun-Tzu Liao knows too. Lin has never hinted that he knew about my true identity before, or they would have tried to capitalize on it before._

Ian started to feel a bit trapped. _Still, I should never have discounted the abilities of the Maskirovka. No, they are certainly not stupid, but I'm not either. You are saying all this because you want me to get you the data at a cheap price, and to your House only. I will not be threatened this way. Two can play at that game._

"My loyalties are mine to decide, but rest assured that I would try to be as fair as possible to all potential buyers. I won't be like the mercenary commander on Carver, who went one way then the other. Didn't the HPG on that world go down a few weeks before their independence?" Ian rubbed his chin speculatively.

It was a deadly hand he was playing, alluding to the destruction of the Comstar HPG compound by mercenaries under the employ of House Liao. He had been on Carver at the time as well, extricating the last remnants of forces loyal to House Marik from that war torn planet.

It was purely coincidence that he met the merc commander who had carried out the assault on the moon when the Lancers worked for the pro-independence forces later. The merc commander was more than happy to turn over the evidence to him, in return for the use of Ian's hired jumpship to transport them to the Periphery, where they could hide out from Katrina Steiner's wrath until the civil war ended.

That same evidence was in his pocket, ready as insurance should House Liao ever try to screw them over a contract. Comstar would jump onto the Liaos like a trachazoi on steroids should their attack on the HPG become known. Ian had never envisioned using it for threatening the Capellans to keep his identity a secret. For the time being.

Because the matter of his identity might be a moot point in a few more months anyway.

Lin shifted uncomfortably, a sign that Ian's subtle attack had hit home. "It was an accident, I think. Thank you for the information, in any case. The Chancellor sends his regards, for you have been most efficient while in the service of the Capellan people, and he does not wish to see your talents wasted. He has expressed a wish that you would accept his invitation to form a new unit for the Confederation. Has you answer changed?"

_Cold day in hell before it does, especially now,_ Ian thought. "No, my answer has not changed. I think we have talked long enough. I have issues to discuss with my dinner companions. Have a pleasant evening." He was essentially terminating the conversation with the last statement.

"Very well then. You know where to contact us if you should change your mind. I shall leave you to your dinner." Lin stood up and bowed slightly before leaving. He walked away calmly, but Ian could sense that he was seething on the inside.

_That's one win, but there'll be more. Hopefully, we can get out of here and leave things to the lawyers before anybody else thinks to short circuit the process by coming to me or Frank directly. Try beating _them_. Hah!_ Ian grinned to himself.

Ian saw the door to the restaurant open as Descartin Winters, Yoshino Ihara, Forsen Mandela, Bryan, and Jadine Sheik walked in. They looked around for a while before spotting his table. As they started walking towards Ian's table, a flustered Frank Meronac burst in, drawing a glare from the waitress near the door.

Frank grinned sheepishly before joining the group. Ian greeted the newcomers with a wave.

"Good to see you all here. Have a seat, and place a food order. The stuff here is great, just ask Daniela. She's gonna have to work all that excess meat off after really grubbing all those burgers down." He ignored her as she stared at him indignantly.

A waitress took their orders, and it was not long before the food was on their table. They started eating while discussing the happenings of the day.

Ian started first. "I've set up an office in the Hiring Hall. Cost quite a sum, but the security there will ensure that nobody will dare mess with us because they'll be ticking off the Dragoons as well. The data we've brought with us have been stored there, ready for sale, so to speak, to potential buyers."

They had brought 5% of the Star League research files on the _Nile_ to Outreach, where they would be sold to the Houses at a hefty price. The data would also serve as proof of their find of the Star League base world, evidence that they had yet more info to be sold at a trickle at a time. Frank and Ian were bent on milking this cash cow for all it was worth. And so did all the other mercs.

"I've reviewed the security arrangements, and they're pretty good. I've got my contract lawyer Fabien Dacort to handle the negotiations. You guys don't have to worry. He's been with me for the past ten years, and utterly reliable. He's not here because he's still preparing the office at the Hiring Hall. I expect the money to come rolling in soon."

"Any questions? I'll bring you guys to see Fabien tomorrow at our new office."

When nobody had any, Ian turned to Frank, "Did you find the man you were looking for?"

Frank replied. "Nope. We went to the address he gave Forsen, but the landlord told us he was dead. We didn't believe it, but a trip down to the local cops confirmed it." He shrugged. "They found this bag in his room, and they put everything he owned into the bag. There was a note telling them to simply hand over the contents over to Forsen should anything happen to him.

He asked Ian, "Is that the way things work in Temptown?"

Ian answered. "Yup. There're no real rules in that place, and even the police are there simply to keep the violence from spilling over to the other sectors. Sometimes they just stick around to pick up the pieces."

He remembered his first two years when putting together the Lancers. Many of his first contracts had been made in Temptown, and many of his first recruits had also been dragged off the bars of the shady ghetto. He had many bad memories of the place, and after he and the Lancers had gained some respectability, they had left Temptown and never looked back.

Frank snorted. "In any case, I don't believe Landar is dead. I think he is probably still alive, and got some poor sap to stand in for his death scene. I was thinking that the stuff in the bag might help us."

"Wait." Lorik interjected. "There is a problem with your logic. If he is still alive, then he would not have left any clues behind, quiaff?"

"Yeah," Frank agreed, "but there must be more to this. Why did he send us to the Periphery? How did he know there was a Star League base there? All evidence we found on Einstein, plus what Des had found, indicates that nobody else was supposed to know about the Star League presence on that world, much less the alien base there. So who else knew, and why didn't they claim it for themselves?"

Ian gestured to the bag, "Let's find out. Maybe it would have some clues."

Forsen zipped the bag open, and the first thing that came to sight were several "Soldier of Fortune" magazines, which were in the 11th century of their publication. Ian and Bryan flipped through them, but they found nothing out of the ordinary.

Next out were some "Penthouse" issues featuring scantily clad women on their covers, which brought a flush to the faces of the men, while Daniela wondered why there were even such publications in the first place.

Evidently, like the demand for mercs, human tastes hadn't changed much in the past thousand years either.

Forsen took out several thick books, which were in stark contrast to the magazines, since they were academic in nature. There were two on history, and another on philosophy, while another one dealt with politics. Ian couldn't figure it out. Landar had seemed like a typical pirate on the surface.

_On the surface._ Ian was sure that Frank was correct. Landar was no more a simple pirate out for a quick buck than he was just a simple mercenary commander. There was someone behind it all, and Ian shuddered inwardly as he tried to guess at the organization responsible, which probably had in their possession advanced technology, and the most important asset of all in the war torn Inner Sphere.

_Non-existence_. Or at least as close to it as anything could get in the Inner Sphere. The fact that _nobody_ knew about it was the same as being non-existent, right?

"Hey, look at this!" Bryan exclaimed as he held up a key chain in his hands. There was a key and a tag on it.

That drew all their attention to it, as Bryan handed it over to Ian, who inspected it.

"A clue." Ian said, "A real one this time. It's a locker key, I think, and the logo on the key tag belongs to the DropPort, so I would say that this Landar probably has a locker in the starport."

"But what's the number?" Bryan asked.

Ian flipped the tag around, only to be confronted with several weird symbols. Strange, there were supposed to be numbers there, indicating the locker number.

"I don't know. There's only these strange symbols." He passed the key chain around the table, letting everybody have a look at the key chain.

When it got to Frank, he nearly dropped the tag like a hot potato when he saw the symbols.

"What is it?" Ian demanded.

"Those symbols…" Frank paused, "They're numbers all right. But in a language that nobody else should know."

Ian arched an eyebrow critically. "Get to the point."

"The symbols are in the language of the Qlictorio. I ran across enough of them during my research that I can make out their equivalents in Arabic numerals. They used a decimal system too." Frank took a closer look at the tag, and said, "The number's 4892."

"That's probably the locker which this key opens." Lorik agreed. "But am I the only one who feels uneasy about this?"

Ian finished off his bottle of beer, hoping that the alcohol would dispel the sinking feeling in his guts. "This whole business stinks. But we have no choice but to follow it through. I think we're being led by the nose, but our best shot right now is just to follow the steps laid out in front of us until we can figure out what's going on. So let's finish our dinner, and then off to the DropPort we go."

Standing in front of items locker 4892 in the Harlech Interstellar DropPort, Frank Meronac wished for the umpteenth time that his hands wouldn't shake so badly as he rummaged in his pockets for the key. They had left Bryan and Lorik in the carpark, and Jadine in the Goat's Tavern, in case it had turned out to be a trap.

Ian and Des Winters waited patiently beside him, as the others crowded around expectantly. The locker area they were in was deserted, leaving them the only people around. It was late at night, after all.

"Frank, can you hurry it up, or do you want me to take over?" Yoshino Ihara asked.

"I can handle it, I can handle it," Frank mumbled disagreeably as his hands finally came up with the key.

Frank still had to fumble for a while before he managed to push the key into the keyhole of the green colored locker. He heard a sign of resignation from Yoshino as he did so.

Frank turned the key around until a clear click was heard, indicating that the small locker door was open.

Frank looked at the faces around him. "You guys ready?"

Everybody nodded. Frank took a deep breath. _Here goes nothing._

He swung the door open, and there was…

A wooden box, about the size of a large file.

Frank took out the box gingerly, as though it might explode at any moment. He noticed a strange symbol on the box. It was an eye situated in a triangular pyramid. There was a strange sense of foreboding around the symbol as he stared at it, trying to make sense of it all.

"Open it!" Daniela ordered.

Frank stopped looking at the cover, and lifted the lid off the box carefully. He handed the lid over to Yoshino.

There was a single sheet of paper in the box.

Frank took out the sheet, trying unsuccessfully to calm his frazzled nerves. He couldn't understand why he was feeling this way, but he just _knew _that what was on that sheet of paper might change their lives forever.

He started reading aloud to the others.

"Greetings, mercenaries. Congratulations on your find of the alien civilization, which was only possible reason why you were able to find the locker which the box with this sheet of paper was in."

"Now, you must be very curious, and you must have a lot of questions. I hereby apologize for the lies and falsehoods I had to use to get you to the alien base world. Know that it was necessary for such steps to be taken. You certainly have been informed by now that some massive alien horde is probably bearing down on the Inner Sphere. In a few years time."

"As for who I am, that cannot be revealed yet. Yes, you may call me Landar for now, for that is indeed _one_ of my names, but by no means the only one I have. And before anyone accuses me of murder, I did not get anyone killed during my 'murder'. It was simply a well staged act. And paying off the morgue personnel and the cremationists did the rest."

"So I have some questions for you. Answer them as best if you can if you want to track me down. This is my challenge. Prove your worth by solving this puzzle."

"Who was the big winner in the recent civil war that ended? Which world is their capital, so to speak?"

"What is the sole guarantor of freedom? Free information or guns? And who has it all?"

"What happened on that grassy knoll?"

"Who was Akern Sanders? What did he do, and where did he get his inspiration from?"

"Who are you? Be warned, the answer may be more than you suspect."

"Last of all, ponder this little poem."

"All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king."

"Sorry for plagiarizing somebody's else's work, but figure out the meaning of that poem, and who it applies to."

"Here's a major hint. One of you guys."

"The last question. What does the symbol on the box mean?"

"That is about it. Think carefully on the clues I have given you, and then find me if you can. I shall reveal all when you do. I would wish you luck, but then again I think I need it all for myself."

"Best regards, Landar."

Frank Meronac looked up, disbelief plain on his face.

"Do any of you believe this crap?"


	37. Epilogue

_Harlech Interstellar DropPort, Harlech_

_Outreach, Chaos March,_

_1st May 3068_

A slender man stood at a distance, watching the warriors go over the flimsy piece of paper, trying to interpret the message within. He wore a faint smile, confident that the warriors were unable to see him.

Oh, certainly they could _see _him, but they were just unable to realize that what they're seeing was actually a person and not part of the scenery.

Thanks to another of his… talents, he could hear every word of their discussion, as they argued about what to do next. A handy skill to have.

"Feeling very smug, are you?" The voice startled him from behind.

He turned around quickly to see a young woman with short cropped red hair grinning mischievously at him. He was not amused.

"Alyss! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Serves you right for being so cocksure about yourself." She inspected her hands nonchalantly as she spoke, seemingly more concerned about their appearance than about the conversation she was having. "You know, there's this very useful cure for overconfident people over at…"

"Okay, okay! I get it! Sheesh, I can't do anything without you hollering in my ear." He grumbled. He liked having her around, but _not_ when he was doing important business.

"What? Are you complaining now? Maybe I should stop checking in on you every few days and see if your so-called 'important business' succeeds at all." She paused. "After all, this has been one of the most hare-brained schemes I have ever heard of in my entire existence. I think lizard-brained would be a better description, or even fish-brained. It really does suck. Big time."

The slender man ran a hand through his yellow hair, trying to buy time for a retort. "Hey! I seem to remember that some of your schemes weren't so… ouch!"

She poked a finger into his chest, the nails somehow puncturing through the clothing. "I did get you and that other fool out alive every time, right?"

_This relationship of ours gets more dysfunctional by the year._ "Right." He sighed. "But what's so bad about this current plan?"

She tilted her head slightly, considering the question. "Too complicated. Too many variables, too many angles, too many statistics… sorry, got carried away there for a moment. Anyway, it's like you guys are basing too much on the actions of these new idiots to come out exactly the way you want. That's not very workable."

"Still, it's better than walking up to them and spilling everything at once. And we know how well _that _worked in the past."

"Hmm, so how about the dinner you promised me?" She quickly changed the subject, which he took to be a concession to his previous point. "There was something about ambient surroundings, nice cutlery, and lousy food…"


	38. Character Profiles and Replies To My Mos...

All ages and stats current as of 3069 December

Frank Meronac

Homeworld: Lackland

Age: 29

Height: 178 cm

Hair: Dark Brown

Eyes: Black

Vehicle: _Night Gyr_

Notable skills:

Mech G/P ratings: 4/4

Surgery

Blade(Fencing)

Background:

Adopted when he was just an infant by Jack and Sarah Campbell, Frank grew up in a farming community on Still Isle, a small island on the waterworld of Lackland. There he learnt the rudiments of mech piloting with the community's sole agromech, a machine centuries old and falling apart despite(or in spite) of their best efforts.

His excellent scores in school brought him to the attention of the authorities, and he was soon offered a scholarship to continue his higher education at the planet's only secondary level institution. He did well again, and got shipped to the NAIS for further studies, along with the Duke's only daughter.

Graduating in 3062 at the young age of 22, he was soon caught up in the bitter civil war between the Steiner-Davions. He managed to survive the war, and even managed to turn the tide of the battle on a world through his actions, earning some notoriety, and a tidy sum of money from the noble of the world.

He managed to discharge his bond with the government after the war, but his hopes of setting up a life with his girlfriend, the Duke's daughter Clarice, was dashed when her aristocratic father insisted that he prove his worth, preferably by earning a title of his own. For reasons not revealed yet, Frank was barred from joining the armed forces, and forced to find other methods.

He became a merc on Outreach, and the rest, like they say, is history.

Ian Dorlacen

Homeworld: Taurus

Age: 42

Height: 184 cm

Hair: Black

Eyes: Blue

Vehicle: _Awesome_

Notable skills:

Mech G/P ratings: 1/3

Tactics

Leadership

Scrounging

Negotiation

Background:

Classified.

Descartin Winters

Homeworld: Barcella

Age: 38

Height: 193 cm

Hair: Light Brown

Eyes: Green

Vehicle: _Nova Cat_

Notable skills:

Mech G/P ratings: 0/0

Tactics

Strategy

Blade

Phantom Mech Ability

Background:

A typical upbringing in a Nova Cat sibko, but a decidedly atypical life after he became a warrior.

His journeys amongst the clans have made him a legend, as well as his ability in one on one combat situations.

Considered a strong candidate for a future Grand Council Loremaster, provided he could get rid of his stinking freebirth follower…

For more information, please read "Across The Sea Of Stars". Check under my author name directory.

And yes, it is indeed 0/0. Add the PMA to it… Ouch!

Lizabet Danforth

Homeworld: Priori

Age: 44

Height: 178 cm

Hair: Black

Eyes: Brown

Vehicle: _Mad Cat_

Notable skills:

Mech G/P ratings: 1/2

Tactics

Strategy

Background:

Abtakha from Clan Burrock, she rose to the rank of Galaxy Commander with consistently brilliant performances in the many trials in the homeworlds.

Sent to Einstein on what was supposed to be a milk run, she understood that it was a ploy by Marthe Pryde to remove a potential rival for the Khanship.

Daniella Mattlov

Homeworld: Ironhold

Age: 32

Height: 179 cm

Hair: Blond

Eyes: Blue

Vehicle: _Masakari_

Notable skills:

Mech G/P ratings: 2/3

Tactics

Strategy

Unarmed Combat

Background:

Blooded in the Coventry campaigns and in the Falcon incursion of 3064-3065, Star Captain Daniela Mattlov looked less an elite clan mechwarrior than a galactic supermodel.

She dreams of standing on Terra in victory one day, but little does she know that dreams have a strange way of coming true…

Deserk (Winters)

Homeworld: Barcella

Age: 38

Height: 175 cm

Hair: Light Brown

Eyes: Green

Vehicle: _Black Hawk_

Notable skills:

Mech G/P ratings: 2/3

Tactics

Strategy

Teaching

Background:

Raised in the same sibko and from the same geneparents as Descartin Winters, Deserk fought in the clan invasion and was captured by Wolf's Dragoons during the climatic Battle of Luthien after his mech was destroyed by Morgan Kell.

Deserk adapted to life as a mercenary, and even managed to fall in love and get married.

He was killed in action on Einstein.

Valten Folkner

Homeworld: Ironhold

Age: 36

Height: 168 cm

Hair: Black

Eyes: Black

Vehicle: _Black Lion_ Battlecrusier

Notable skills:

Aerospace fighter G/P ratings: 1/2

Tactics(Naval)

Strategy

Zero-G Operations

Large Craft Operations

Background:

An elite pilot who showed a propensity for naval tactics and fighting with VERY BIG SHIPS. He yearns for naval combat, and his appetite is thus far satisfied with the conflict over Einstein, though he privately wonders if he would be demoted for losing the _White Aerie_…

Galietra Binneti

Homeworld: Ironhold

Age: 32

Height: 170 cm

Hair: Black

Eyes: Brown

Vehicle: _Seraph_

Notable skills:

Aerospace fighter G/P ratings: 2/2

Tactics

Background:

Nothing special. Move along now.

Forsen Mandela

Homeworld: Not Applicable

Age: 48

Height: 173 cm

Hair: Gray

Eyes: Black

Vehicle: _Nautilus _Starship

Notable skills:

Negotiation

Large Craft Operations

Zero-G Operations

Background:

A merchant who ran into some hard times after being behind on his payments to his bank creditors, he jumped at the chance to recoup his losses.

Convinced by Frank and Ian to continue hauling ships for them, while the mercs would use some of the money to from the sale of technology to pay off his debts once and for all.

Yoshino Ihara

Homeworld: Avon

Age: 37

Height: 177 cm

Hair: Black

Eyes: Black

Vehicle: _Nobori-Nin_

Notable skills:

Mech G/P ratings: 2/3

Tactics

Blade(Katana)

Unarmed Combat

Background:

A graduate of the Sun Zhang, he was in the top 5% of the academy. Captured by Descartin Winters during the clan assault on Avon, he has since adapted to life in the clans.

Has a variety of reasons for not going back to the DC, the most important of which an arranged marriage lay in wait for him.

Has a vendetta against Vance Rezak.

Kety

Homeworld: Outreach

Age: 25

Height: 187 cm

Hair: Blond

Eyes: Black

Vehicle: _Gallowglas_

Notable skills:

Mech G/P ratings: 3/3

Tactics

Background:

Nothing special. Move along now.

Bryan

Homeworld: Outreach

Age: 28

Height: 175 cm

Hair: Brown

Eyes: Blue

Vehicle: _Fenris_

Notable skills:

Mech G/P ratings: 3/2

Tactics

Stealth

Background:

Nothing special. Move along now.

Kily Gonzalez

Homeworld: Irian

Age: 24

Height: 174 cm

Hair: Black

Eyes: Black

Vehicle: _Wolfhound_

Notable skills:

Mech G/P ratings: 4/5

Background:

Nothing special. Move along now.

Lorik

Homeworld: Roche

Age: 40

Height: 245 cm

Hair: NA

Eyes: Blue

Vehicle: _Elemental Battlearmor_

Notable skills:

Battlearmor

Unarmed Combat

Physics

Background:

Nothing special. Move along now.

When I said nothing special, I really do mean it. Of course, part of the reason was also because I don't want to give too much away. :) And obviously minor characters get less attention.

It's mostly only for the combat ratings that I put this up, as a way for readers to compare and contrast their abilities.

Oh, and here's my replies to the first round of reviews.

To Deadghost: Yeah, everything's going fine now, but remember, the mercs are still recovering and regrouping on Einstein, while most of their equipment were trashed in the campaign. Even with clan salvage, they still don't have enough material to rebuild to full strength. At least not anytime soon. But that's not the focus in the next story anyway. It'll be more like a true Mechwarrior adventure for Frank and Des, while Ian will be playing politics. It's basically three adventures in one novel, with the start and the ending being the only adjoining parts. News snippets, however, will serve to join the three tracks together.

To Aeain: Epilogue's the crossover part. I will reveal a bit more in the next story. I'm going to progress slowly, unlike so many crossovers that simply go BANG together without any logic. And you won't really need prior knowledge of the other… story that is the crossover.

To Strikepenguin5: Ah hah! You get the hidden references, eh? But a thousand years from now, things might be different. Tread carefully, enlightened one, for our existence should not be revealed.;)

Concerning the lack of the Star League sourcebook, everybody's griping about it. It should be coming out in pdf format in a few months time. Warner Doles promised me!

I also need the FM: Periphery before I can start on Seekers. Damn.

About the lack of drones, well… the houses don't have the advanced tech for it, that's the most basic reason why they never utilized drone fighters with nukes. And anyway a nuke is a brute force weapon. Who needs to really aim it?

To Warden: Akern Sanders, from House Kurita SB. "rn" looks a lot like "m" from a distance. I thinks that's the cause for the confusion.

To UnarmedBystander: Sorry, I've got a lot of work and studies in my life, so I can't keep myself chained to the keyboard. I'm also on a scholarship, so I can't slip up on my grades(A- average so far; hoping to keep it that way)

To Elven 14: This story will never be published! Whizkids are going off on their Dorkage concept, which I will spoof in the next story. Don't believe? Watch me.

And I am NOT Stackpole. Heck, I'm not even American! I'm just a chemistry student trying desperately to get into his killer university's honors program, for the right to blow himself up in a lab in the future… I could give up, but the $200 pay increment for a 2nd Upper for my later career is irresistible…

Lastly, I think I will be working for a few chapters on "Across The Sea Of Stars" after all, simply because I need more info from the source material before writing "Seekers". I need to know who's dead, who's alive, what's still standing etc. I can't afford to waste time, so I'm hoping to get a chapter for "Sea of Stars" up in a week's time.

This whole thing will build up into an almost utterly different universe from the one you guys are familiar with, but I will go through it step by step, so it won't be so bad. The downside is that it will take more than a dozen novels to fully chronicle the entire saga, and that it would be impossible for me to finish the stories of even half the characters. I was aiming for something like Water Margin, where each and every hero had his own tale to tell.

But uh, having something on the order of at least 20 main characters…

I think I'm going to faint now…

Unless somebody's willing to help?;)

Yeah, I can just see it…

Fanfic writer recruitment drive! :p

Oh, and the synopsis for "Seekers" is up on the yahoo egroup I've set up. Here's the link.

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/BT_Fanfic/


	39. Changes in the Reworked Version

Here's the final form of New World Order! Reworked for _your _enjoyment!

I made some quick grammar and tense corrections. Also, I made some much needed changes due to the information that came out in the various sourcebooks like TRO-3067 and Fed Com Civil War. For example, Frank fought on Sirdar, and not on Bromhead.

It has been an eventful 36 chapters of intense action for New World Order, yet it is also the beginning of the entire saga. Watch out for more hard hitting Battletech action in _Seekers In Shadow_!

And needless to say, this is an alternate timeline from the official one that leads to MW: DA.

Meanwhile, I'm getting back to work on ATSOS and Seekers. I hope you guys are as excited as I am about the upcoming chapters!

And of course, more reviews are always welcome!


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